


Steve & Margaret

by starspangledmeatball



Category: Captain America (Movies), Kate & Leopold, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Former Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, M/M, Modern! Steve Rogers, Nobody Dies, OOC Steve for the first couple chapters, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, Victorian!Peggy Carter, but there are injuries and numerous health problems, everything goes right, that changes later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7133633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmeatball/pseuds/starspangledmeatball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaret Elizabeth Carter, Duchess of York, is unhappy with her life as an aristocrat. In defiance of her aunt's wishes, she runs away to escape an expected life of marrying a rich American.</p><p>Steve Rogers is a cynical and heartbroken mess. He ended his three year relationship only a month ago and now he is trying to find a spokesperson for the commercial that will define his career.</p><p>Will time be their only obstacle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Many lines were taken from Kate & Leopold because I am lazy. I am taking liberty with characterizations due to the differences of time and circumstance. Also, a lot of the time stuff isn’t accurate simply because the internet won’t tell me what I need to know and Kate & Leopold isn’t historically accurate either.

It was a rather dusty day when Lady Margaret Elizabeth Carter, the Duchess of York, chose to go see the announcement of the Brooklyn Bridge. Even though it was not quite completed, it was an impressive sight. The man who designed the bridge was puffed up, like the birds she'd seen on her trips to the forest.

She sat in her navy colored riding suit, atop her black horse, with a drawing board resting against the steed's neck. She pretended not to notice the men eyeing her like some prized piece of meat. She pursed her lips and ignored them, continuing her sketch of the bridge.

She noticed the Duke of Albany, Leopold, beside her, doing the same thing, though, he was not on a horse.

She was meant to attend his ball tonight. He had to marry a wealthy young lady. His Uncle Millard believed he would marry a wealthy lady from America. Her Aunt Mildred hoped he would choose her wealthy niece.

Margaret thought he was conceited and far too self interested to be a decent husband.

Roebling, the architect continued on his long winded speech. "As the pyramids testify to the Egyptians," He waved his hand to the bridge. "So my glorious erection shall represent our culture in perpetuity."

"Behold, rising before you, the greatest erection on the continent. The greatest erection of the age. The greatest erection on the planet!"

A sniggering alerted Margaret. She turned back and saw a man with an odd looking mustache and shoddy clothes that looked like he dragged them off the line before they were even dry. He was standing next to another man in similar attire, except this one had a shaved head. They both held odd devices that they held up to their eyes before writing something down in a small notebook.

She grew more suspicious when they were startled by the explosion of a camera.

"Hold this," she closed her drawing board and handed it to her valet, Angelina.

"Of course, ma'am. Shall I meet you at the house?"

"Please," she turned her horse around. Their eyes widened and the two men hurried off. She trailed after the one with the beard, but due to the congestion in the streets, she lost him when he and the other man separated in different directions. It seemed Leopold had followed them as well.

"Sir Leopold," she nodded politely.

"Lady Margaret," he gave a quick bow, before heading back to his valet.

A bit frustrated, she turned around and headed home to a handsome stone house on the other side of Brooklyn. She snuck inside, hoping her Aunt would not see her. No such luck.

"Margaret!" Aunt Mildred swooped into the room looking like the vulture she wore on her hats. This vulture just wore a white lace dress. "Why are you still in your riding clothes? And the gentlemen's style nonetheless! Get upstairs and wash up! The Duke of Albany is choosing a bride tonight and we can't let him pick an American."

Margaret winced at her aunts shrill, adenoidal voice continued on about how she was not a proper Duchess, she needed to find more ladylike activities, she needed to follow her duties, she needed to stop reading, heaven forbid her future husband knows she can box and fight.

"Yes, Aunt Mildred," Margaret replied automatically. It was easier just to agree rather than argue. Angelina wasn't going to tell on her when she did something unladylike.

"I've had enough," Aunt Mildred pinched her niece's arm to make sure she was paying attention. "You are twenty-one years old, Margaret. If you are not chosen by the Duke, I shall have to pick a husband for you. One that will not stand for any of your foolishness."

A husband that will beat her into place.

"Yes, Aunt Mildred," she swallowed back any protests. "May I be excused to ready myself?"

"You may."

She curtsied and left the room gracefully.

"I am locking up your horse, so don't get any ideas!" The old crone wagged her finger.

"Yes, Aunt Mildred." She trudged up to her room. She intended on doing as she was told, but now? Now, she was going to escape. She had no idea where though. She had bonds and money and silver and gold. Things she could sell. Things her greedy aunt didn't know about.

She could get a job. Eileen, the house seamstress, taught her how to sew and mend clothes. She was a rather good artist, she could sell water colors. She could enter horse races.

She tugged Angelina away from Eileen. "Flirt later, we have work to do. Quickly."

The young woman widened her green eyes. "What are you going to do?"

Margaret smiled and grabbed her valet and friend's shoulders. "I'm going to run away and be free from my aunt."

"Okay." Angelina said without argument and smiled. Only one question needed to be asked. "What do you need from me?"

"You know where I save my bonds and treasures. Pack them among some clean clothes in a suitcase. I will wear a pair of riding pants under my skirt so that I can disrobe along the way and make a run for it," She smirked. "Aunt Mildred always insists on taking separate carriages since her smoking makes me ill."

"Yes, madam," Angelina hustled about getting the suitcase ready.

Margaret readied herself. Luckily for her, at least on this night. She had a good excuse to wear her high-collared shirts. Aunt Mildred complained that if she had no breasts, she'd look like a man in those shirts, but did not make Margaret wear the low cut ball gowns other women wore. Some days, she would like to wear those pretty gowns, but a large scar marred her skin from center of collarbone to left shoulder. She didn't want it to be gawked at.

She chose her scarlet riding suit, for she had a long, flowing skirt that would match it. She went to grab it but, alas, it was nowhere to be found. She began to panic when the door opened. She whirled around, thinking it was her aunt.

Eileen, the seamstress, brought in the exact skirt Margaret was looking for.

"I made it so that you could get rid of it more easily." She winked.

Margaret never felt more grateful in her life. She wished she could give the two women something. Anything. But, they would be found out and punished.

She could not let that happen.

After she was fully dressed, she put on her mother's jewelry. The pieces she refused to sell. They did not look like much compared to other jewelry of the upper class ladies'. Merely an intricately painted locket on a small chain, small pearl earrings, and a brooch passed down from her mother's side bearing the face of Athena on a pink background surrounded by gold brocade.

Angelina coiffed her hair. Against the trend, Margaret loved having her hair much more loose and curled, the only pins were the ones that held her bangs in fashionable rolls and/or coils atop her head.

Eileen returned and whispered to the two women. "I hid the suitcase just in the alley, it is hidden behind a crate."

Margaret kissed the two women on their cheeks. "I'll miss both of you terribly. I shall never forget you."

They bade their goodbyes and Angelina led the Duchess down the stairs to be inspected by her aunt.

The old woman harrumphed and turned up her nose. "Pity there aren't more feminine colors for your day dresses."

"Pity indeed, Aunt Mildred."

She waved her hand. "Go on now, or you shall be late!"

"Yes, Aunt Mildred," Margaret bit back a smile, curtsied, and headed outside to her carriage. She whispered her last goodbye to her valet.

The driver, who was in on this, drove her to where her suitcase lay. Luckily, it hadn't been touched. She hoisted it up and entered the carriage once more. She decided to make an appearance at the ball, to make sure her driver did not get fired either. He promised to guard her case, protected by a small key she hid by her breast, while she made her appearance.

He stopped at the entrance and Margaret felt a surge of anticipation. She was ready to be gone. She nodded to the men that made sure invited guests were the only ones that entered. As she hurriedly made her way over to the loudmouth of the party, she bumped into a woman with blonde hair and a silver dress.

"I beg your pardon."

"Sorry, excuse me."

Margaret said her hellos to the group of women, then excused herself to powder her nose. She slipped out the servant's door and found her driver.

She felt a surge of relief pass through her. She had her doubts about him leaving her.

"Good luck, madam," he smiled kindly.

"Thank you, Daniel."

She turned on her heel and dashed into the night. Something in her viscera telling her to go to the East River. To her luck, it began to rain heavily. She shed the heavy skirt and continued on her way.

Someone caught her eye. The man from before. "You!" she called out.

His eyes widened and he took off running. She followed in pursuit. Who was he?

She chased him all the way to the bridge. At the top, lightning flashed in quick succession showing two men leaping over the edge, disappearing long before they hit the water.

There. It was insane, but that was her way out. She stared at the tall ladder and saw the scruffy man.

"Take me with you!" She called. Scanning her surroundings, she found a long piece of rope for her to strap her case to her body. Desperately, she scaled the ladder, catching up to the man.

"Stay back!" He held up a small device as he stood near the edge.

"No." Her eyes widened at lightning hit her chest. She gasped in pain and horror when she realized it was coming from his device. She grabbed onto him just as he leapt. Leaving him no choice, but to take her with him.

She spiraled into dizzying blackness.

\---  
Steve Rogers entered his apartment exhausted. He had to stay late for a test screening for a new product. He put together a snack for himself and started a bath, scooping in some decongestant salts.

Loud thumping startled him and he glared up at the apartment above his. He hoped it would settle down, but Jarvis was barking up a storm.

He frowned. Abandoning his snack, he got out onto the fire escape and scaled the one flight. He peered into the window to see what was going on.

Tony, his ex-boyfriend, was already moving on with some street actor. The chilly night air hit his lungs and he broke out into a coughing fit, so before he could alert Tony to his presence, he scrambled back to his apartment and called Tony on his house phone.

Sure enough, it went to voicemail.

"Tony! I want my palm pilot back! Don't ignore me, I know you're home," he said, agitated.

They'd only broken up a few months ago, so things were still getting sorted out. The only time Tony acted quickly was when Steve needed his B12 Vitamins… and his inhaler... and his heart monitor. But other than that, heels were dragged.

Steve wondered how so many of his things ended up at Tony's apartment. He also wondered where it all went wrong.

"Tony, give me my palm pilot back," he said again and this time, his Ex answered.

 _"Hey, I'm a little busy right now,"_ Tony growled. _"Besides, it's one in the morning."_

"Clearly you're awake. So what's the big deal?"

 _"I can't talk right now, I'm expecting a call,"_ he hung up.

Steve stared at the phone glared at the phone. When Jarvis kept barking, Steve got an idea. Unfortunately, the comfort of the little brown dog would have to be sacrificed. He dug through the remote control basket on his coffee table and pulled out the shock collar controller.

He raised it to the ceiling, clicked the red button, and heard the poor dog yelp. When he was sure Tony had it he pressed it again. The muffled scream and consequent thud told him he succeeded. He grinned and pumped his fist triumphantly in the air.

He grabbed the phone off the side table and called Tony once more.

"You know what Tony? You know what? I'm—"

 _"Please, I got somebody here okay?"_ he said exasperatedly.

"I know, I saw him," Steve snapped.

_"No, you didn't."_

"Yes, I did!"

 _"It's a her, if that's any sort of consolation to you."_ he scoffed.

"Ohh, and how many times did you ask me if I was going to leave you for a woman, you fucking hypocrite!?"

 _"I'm not sleeping with her,"_ he argued. _"Just, go to bed."_

"Uh-uh," he said. "Do not hang up on me Tony

_"Steve, come on. Something big is happening. Something that validates my entire life..."_

"Something that validates your entire life, well that explains where we went wrong. What could that possibly be?"

_"Are you sitting down?"_

"Yes."

_"No, you're not. Sit."_

"Yes, I am," Steve argued, even though he was standing.

_"No, you're not."_

"Fine," Steve plunked down into the nearest chair. "I'm sitting."

_"I found it."_

He could hear Tony's smile which made him even more annoyed. "What did you find?"

 _"The portal,"_ he replied and giggled. _"It was over the East River, Steve, just where Stuart and I predicted. A crack in the fabric of time."_

"You found the portal," Steve said flatly.

_"I jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge. It was 1876 old New York. Stuart followed the Duke of Albany. Are you listening?"_

"Raptly," Steve said sarcastically.

 _"I ran into the Duchess of York and here's the kicker,"_ he snickered.

"What's the kicker?" Steve wanted this conversation to end.

 _"She followed me home,"_ he whispered.

Bullshit. "So, the Duchess of York… followed you home through a crack in time."

_"She was said to be a brilliant woman in her day. She trained as a fighter at the King's Academy."_

"You know what Tony?" Steve interrupted. "You know what? I'm not your boyfriend anymore, I haven't been for a whole month now. You can tell me the truth."

_"I am telling the truth."_

"You can tell me you picked up a drag queen in Times Square," he shouted. "I don't care!"

_"You know what Steve? This is it right here. This is it, in a nutshell our downfall. You never, not once, believed in me."_

"Oh, I did Tony," Steve gripped the phone. "I did, for three years and I got burnt."

_"You used to be so nice and trusting and now look at you! You're bitter and a cynic."_

"At least I see reality instead of chasing after time portals."

 _"Okay, you wanna know who she is?"_ he said sounding completely done with all of this blame game shit. _"I'll tell you who she is. She is a hacker. High End. English. I know her from Columbia. She's in town for the Mac Expo at the Javits. We went out, got a little sloppy on Guinness and whiskey, and she passed out on my couch."_

He was a bad liar.

 _"And that's the truth?"_ Steve asked, sitting on his bed.

"Mm-hmm, that's the truth." Tony got a hint of sarcasm. "Are you happy now? Was that plausible enough for you and your little focus group?"

"You know what, Tony?" Steve wanted the conversation to end. "I wasted the best years of my life on you."

_"Those were your best?"_

Steve clenched his jaw and blinked back the tear that threatened to fall.

 _"I'm sorry,"_ Tony actually did sound sorry. _"You'll get your palm pilot in the morning."_

He hung up, sat back and let out a sigh which turned into a cough. He got up and readied himself for bed, swallowing the handful of prescription pills he had to take just so he could make it to work in the morning. He pulled out his hearing aid and put it into his box.

Jarvis barked a couple more times before eventually settling down for the night.

Steve managed to sleep too. But it wasn't peaceful.


	2. Wednesday

Before she even opened her eyes, Margaret knew she was not at home. The couch she was sleeping on hurt key nerves in her back and her neck was stiff. She knew the moment she lifted her head it was going to crack and ache. Next thing she realized was that she found herself partially undressed. Her coat, vest, boots, and jewelry were removed. Her jewelry. Her eyes snapped open and looked around wildly, she immediately relaxed when the jewelry was on the small, cluttered table beside her. Blinking to adjust to the sunlight, she sat up and took in her surroundings.

It was a spacious room, cramped by the number of books and knick-knacks lining the walls and flooding the tables. The entire place smelled funny too. Almost, like the oil lamps, but not quite, as well as man smell. She grabbed a sheet of paper off of a tall stack and looked at it to see if she could find out anymore about the man. It just held a drawing of a bridge and lines pointing down like a funnel. A crudely drawn picture of a human stood on top of the bridge and an arrow labelled him as Tony. It was childlike. Yet this overgrown man-child was dangerous.

She rubbed her chest where he struck her with lighting from his hands.

Scanning a room for a weapon, she grabbed what looked like the weapon he had from last night, in case he was waiting in the shadows of this mess until she was awake to return her home or… worse. She stalked the room until she found him.

 

He lounged in the ugliest gray, over-stuffed chair she'd ever seen with a red blanket draped across his lap. His mouth hung open, drool sliding down the side of his face. She gathered that he was a man that didn't sleep often, judging from the strong smell of coffee emitting from this area of the house. His attire confuddled her further. He wore skin tight clothing, something she'd only seen for men's swimwear, it was black and had an intricate pattern splattered across the front.

What kind of place was this?

It didn't matter, for it was time for revenge. She slammed her thumb down on the biggest button and a horrible screeching filled the room. She dropped the device and covered her ears. It sounded like someone throwing the entire kitchen out the window, playing the mandolin terribly, while stepping on a poor cat's tail.

It was the worst sound she'd ever heard and it struck fear into her heart. This must be some sort of defense set up to confuse someone long enough to be overcome in battle. She stepped back into the other room and fell over the arm of the couch, landing on a hard device. The odd little box against one wall played a moving picture. She then became distracted by that, the quickly moving colors and pictures making her dizzy.

A small brown dog behind a gate started barking incessantly. It took a few steps back and threw its entire body against the gate, the rickety wood clattering to the ground. The creature urgently leaped over the gate and ran around the apartment like his tail was on fire.

The man's eyes finally flew open, he shot out of the giant red armchair, turned off the sound and the box, before putting the dog back behind the fence, much to the dog's discontent.

"Where the bloody hell am I? When I sought to get away I did not mean into a man's apartment!" she bellowed, puffing up to look more intimidating. She was his size and despite the muscles accented by his sleeves, she was sure she could take him.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He held his hands up defensively. "But, I couldn't leave you passed out in the street."

 

"Well, I'm awake now, so perhaps it's time I take my leave."

 

He clenched up, preparing for the outburst. "You can't."

 

"Why the bloody hell not?" She roared. She chose to come here she could very well decide where she wanted to go.

"Besides, you followed me through a crack in time! I can't let you go anywhere, it might screw up the fabric of time." He raked his fingers through his hair. "How did you think this was going to play out?!"

"I thought we would part ways, but instead you struck me with lightning and brought me to this strange land! And what is this about a crack in time?"

They continued circling one another, waiting for one of them to strike.

"Trust me, I don't want this anymore than you do," he kept his back to the wall. "And also trust that this  _land_ is in the future. The year 2000 to be exact."

"You claim to be trust worthy but as far as I am concerned you could be Jack the Ripper! You also think I could believe, that I am in the hereafter? The time to come?"

"Yes," he turned to the dog, which continued to bark through their entire conversation. "Jarvis, quiet!" He sighed and looked at Margaret apologetically. "He needs a walk."

"And you would have me believe that you found a crack in time? That I did not hallucinate going after you?! Where the hell am I?" She shouted.

"I told you," Tony said, becoming frustrated. "You haven't actually gone anywhere, you're still in New York!"

She stormed to the window and pointed. "That is not New York." It couldn't be New York, it was too loud and grey.

"I'm afraid it is," a male voice sounded to her right.

She looked and saw a man smaller and skinnier than she thought could be possible. His cheeks were sallow and his blond hair was limp. He looked ill in every sense of the word. The part of him that looked most alive were his sea green eyes and his pink lips. Everything else was like death from his pale skin, to his lank blond hair. Even his clothes hung off his skin as if he was a skeleton.

"No, Steve," Tony said in the same tone he used towards the dog.

"Hello," Steve greeted Margaret and waved. "What's your name?"

"Margaret," she answered, unsure of any other action she could partake.

"Tell me something," he said. "I'm having trouble with my G-5. How much RAM do I need to properly run OS nine-point-six?"

"I beg your pardon?" the only thing that made sense so far was the dog.

"Clearly, the Mac Expo is out!" Steve shouted at Tony and looked back to Margaret. "So, you must be a woman out of time?" He looked at her outfit. "Or Queen Victoria?"

"Steve, not now," Tony marched over, pushed him outside and locked the window. "We could use a little privacy."

"No, I want my palm pilot," he pounded on the glass with his palm. "Give me my palm pilot!"

Tony pulled down the blinds and pulled yellow curtains closed for extra measure.

The dog continued to bark and whine. Having enough, he clamped his teeth around the gate and ripped it down. Once more, he ran around the apartment stirring up a fuss.

By this point, Margaret was so confused and disoriented her mind became blank and sifted through information slowly accepting everything she was told, for what else could this be? Not even the most elaborate joke could produce all of this.

"I'm sorry," Tony picked up a black box and slipped it into a manila envelope. "He's small, but he's trouble, watch out for men here. JARVIS, HUSH!"

She could only as he opened the window and stuck the package out on a black metal grate. "It's on the landing!" he hollered down.

"Are you always this rude to your lovers?" Margaret asked clicking that relationship together. Ah. Something else that made sense.

Tony choked. "Is that a problem for you?"

"The rude part yes. The lovers part, no," she crossed her arms. "You're going off point."

"And we will get back to it," Tony grabbed a leash off of a hook on the wall. "After I take Jarvis for a walk. Please, do not go anywhere."

She blocked him. "You say this is not a kidnapping, you say you mean no harm. Then why is it, sir, that you will not unlock the door?"

Tony closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry about him. I'm– Look, with all due respect, I can't let you go running around free out there, okay? This is New York City. It's not such a safe place anymore."

"I don't believe it ever was."

Tony ignored that remark. "Look at you, you look like a psychotic escapee from a Renaissance Fair," his voice was a lot calmer, but his urgency was still there. "I understand you have some anxiety, but you have to trust me. I'm going to get you home."

He walked over to the kitchen and poured coffee into two mugs, figuring that he might as well try to act natural, so she would calm down as well. "The portal opens up again next week. It was my back up, in case I didn't make it last night. It's on a cycle kind of like a… total eclipse. Once every twenty years you understand?"

"I once though I understood many things," she said, feeling dazed. "But since meeting you, I understand nothing at all. I can only assume I am in a nightmare brought on by agita, or else I am dead."

"You're not dead," Tony assured her. He put sugar and some sort of powder into her cup.

The dogs barking became more insistent, his tiny paws scratched at what one could only assume was the front door. Tony sighed and looked at Margaret. "He's really gotta go. I'll explain everything when I get back."

He grabbed a leash and clipped it to the dogs collar before hustling out the door, which locked automatically behind him.

Accepting that there was no other option, she went ahead and decided to stay put.

For now.

Margaret tried the coffee and gagged. It was the most vile thing she'd ever tasted, next to castor oil. She crossed her arms and looked around the apartment. It truly was disorganized and disgusting. Just because it was, didn't mean she had to be.

She made her way to the bathroom. Finally, something more recognizable. She felt weird using someone else's toilet, but when you had to do your business, you had to find a way. She cleaned up her face in the basin, amazed that she did not have to pour water from a pitcher. It was even nicer when hot water poured out, almost like magic.

She pulled all the pins out of her hair and ran her fingers through it, wincing as it bent back into place. She then unbuttoned her shirt and examined where she hurt. Two tiny, but very angry marks had hit her just above her bodice. The bodice hurt more than the marks though. She wished the damn thing had some more use than just something to suffocate her and a place to hold her key.

She removed said key and wandered the house in search of her suitcase. She found it by the couch where she had slept. Relief surged through her. She was getting ready to think it was lost or stolen. She knelt down and opened it up, checking the contents. A few of her clothes on the outside got soggy from the rain, but her jewels and bonds were safe and sound. She pulled out her silver makeup box and closed the case, not locking it.

Her Aunt called makeup unfashionable and urged Peggy to be natural like the other women. But, there was something about painting her lips bright red that appealed to her.

She found a line by the window and hung up the damp clothes. Returning to the bathroom, she swiped all of the men grooming supplies to the side so she could use hers. She pinned her hair up the best she could after brushing the snarls out. Then, she painted her lips and pinched her cheeks red.

There. She felt somewhat like herself. She returned her things to their case, locked it up, and returned the key to its pocket.

"Tony!" the man from before climbed through the window. This time, he was wearing thick, black glasses and dressed in work clothes. "You forgot the thingie!"

"I beg your pardon!" She stood up and hastily buttoned her shirt. "Has your mother taught you no manners?"

His cheeks flushed and he scowled. "Listen Miss High-and-Mighty, I don't know who you are, but this isn't your apartment." He strode into what looked like an office and dug through the drawers.

Margaret tied her neckerchief and put on her jewelry. When she had just completed getting dressed, boots, jacket and all. The man found what he was looking for,

He smiled triumphantly and held up a thin, black stick. "Found it." He stuffed it into his pocket and was immediately blocked by Margaret.

"Is it custom to wander around peoples' compartments?" she asked. If it was, there were going to be some serious problems.

"Look Duchess, why don't you go back to Central Park?" He brushed past her. "Your act will make you some good money."

Offended, she crossed her arms and stared him down. "Anthony warned me about you."

Steve gasped mockingly. "Oh, and what, pray tell, did the great disappointment say about me?"

"That you were trouble."

"That's probably because I am," he shouldered his satchel and yanked opened the front door to leave. "Ah geez. Jarvis!" He glared at Margaret. "You can't just throw a dog out into the hall, like that!"

"I assure you, sir. I did not." She looked at him perplexed.

He rolled his eyes and clasped a new collar and leash to the golden dog. "My name isn't 'sir'. It's Steve." He waggled the end of the leash, come on Margo."

"Margaret," she snipped and grabbed the leash, proceeding to follow him out. "It is considered polite to learn a person's name."

"Save it for the tourists." He slapped a button on the wall and groaned.

Margaret wondered what it was supposed to do. Steve groaned once more and took the stairs. She followed, suddenly unsure of herself. What was this new world going to be like up close? Anthony claimed it was much more dangerous.

She stared around the lobby of this building, trying to figure out what to do. She ended up following Steve out. He held a stack of envelopes in his hand. He threw out most of them, shoved two in his satchel, and passed the other to Margaret. "Give that to Tony. It's his cable bill."

Before she could continue to follow him, the dog took off, jerking her along until all she could do was run to keep up. It had a lot of strength for being so small. Metal horseless carriages blared awful noises at each other and it seemed at humans too when they crossed their path.

After nearly getting hit by one of the beasts twice, the dog reached his destination, much to her relief and presumably the dog's.

She stared into the nearby shop window and saw at least ten of her staring back. She narrowed her eyes and ended up making a funny face. The others copied. She smiled to herself and checked to see if the dog was done with his business. He stepped away from his mess and wagged his tail proudly.

Just as she was walking away, a dark-skinned woman in an officer's uniform stopped her. "Are going to clean that up?"

"I beg your pardon?" Was she implying that the animal excrement was to be picked up?

She rolled her eyes. "Not another one. Listen, you have to pick the poop up. It's considered rude to leave it there because other peoples' dogs have to poop too. Plus, it's against the law."

"Oh," though she was not pleased with that fact. It did make sense. She didn't want to break the law either. She may be okay with breaking the laws her aunt set, but laws set by the city and government, she refused to break. "What should I use? I assume it is not with ones bare hands."

"It's okay, I gotchu," she pulled out a roll of plastic baggies, passing one to Margaret. "I keep these on me when I catch people pulling this."

"Thank you, officer," she pondered for a minute before sliding her hand into the bag. If she can muck out her horse's stable, she can do this. She reached down and squealed when she grabbed hold. She quickly slammed it into the metal receptacle and made a disgusted sound.

"Thank you for complying Miss fancy pants, have a nice day," the woman gave her an amused smile and walked off.

Margaret allowed the dog to lead her back to Anthony's apartment building. She gaped at the tall buildings, the brightly colored boards that changed pictures, vendors on the street selling their wares, and others playing instruments for money. This future world, though not what was predicted in her time, it was better than she could imagine. There were so many smells and none of it was horse manure. Sure there was still the smell of trash, but they were wrapped up in bags like the one the officer gave her.

It was still congested, but the ground (if she was careful), did not soil her shoes and was easier to walk on than cobble stones and dirt.

Two young women approached her. "Can we get your picture?" they asked.

Surprised, she accepted. They turned around so they were against her and held up a small rectangle with flowers on it. It flashed and the girls looked at the rectangle.

They thanked her and continued on her way.

This began to repeat itself. People wanted their pictures with her or of her. Some gave her money after doing so, which she accepted. Denying a gift, even a monetary one, might offend these future people. She didn't want that if she was going to blend in.

Not that she was in these clothes, but people seemed to find her fashionable.

A cacophony of sirens flew past. "The fire brigade!" Lucky took off once more, ripping his leash out of her hand. She gave chase and found Anthony being hoisted into the back of a rather large Horseless Cart by four men.

"Margaret," he pulled something clear off of his mouth, which hissed in protest at its removal. "What are you doing? Get back inside!" He screamed when the cot jostled. She watched, eyes wide, as the doors were shut and he was taken away.

"I'm Lionel," the old man holding Jarvis' leash shook her hand. "Did you know Mr. Stark?"

"I was staying in his apartment," she said softly.

"Oh, that's fine, I'll get you a key." He patted her hand and led her inside. "I'm the land lord for this building, so I'll fix you up with one in a jiffy."

"You are very kind, Lionel," she gave him a smile. Finally, another person who was polite. He soon gave her a key and she made her way back feeling a bit more relaxed. She could handle herself until then… right?

Once in the apartment, she removed the dog's leash. He happily jumped onto one of the couches and settled down, picking up a bone from the floor. His feat was rather comical. It would have been easier for him to grab the bone  _before_ jumping on the couch, instead he stretched his little body so far, he almost fell off.

Margaret paused, wondering what to do first. A pinch in her lungs and hips helped her decide. She found Anthony's room and searched for the wardrobe. She found none, but instead a dresser. She opened each drawer and found the clothes were folded rather neatly, which was a surprising contrast considering the state of the rest of the apartment.

She ran her hand along the fabrics of his shirts and ended up choosing one labeled AC-DC. What it stood for, she did not know. She seemed to find herself not knowing quite a bit.

With time, that could be fixed.

She undressed from her riders uniform and contorted her arms to get rid of the bloody corset she hated with a passion. Once loose, she slid it over her head and dropped it to the floor without a care.

Her other clothes, however, she folded neatly onto a chair. She stretched around in her combinations, enjoying the freedom. She knew the pink undergarment wasn't appropriate even in this time, but she still enjoyed being able to breathe.

She slid the shirt on, the black fabric hugging her skin yet was not restricting. She found a pair of blue trousers that fit over her knickers without them bunching up, those were significantly more comfortable than wool. She tied her hair back with a ribbon and headed to the kitchen to find something to eat. Her stomach growled. She rubbed her aching sides, happy to be free. She noticed women on the street didn't wear anything to create tiny waists, so she was going to embrace her full, slightly pudgy figure.

She opened the ice box and found a box labeled Hungry Man with a delicious looking meal consisting of beef, mashed potatoes, and a green vegetable printed on the cover. "Women need to eat too," she muttered at the title.

She opened the end and pulled out the meal covered in clear plastic. It looked absolutely horrid. "Oh dear… that's why it is for men." She was certain only men would be willing to eat slop, especially since she actually witnessed a boy eating pig slop on a dare.

A ringing sound alerted her. She searched for its source and found a bright red device.

_"Margaret, don't freak out. It's me, Tony. I need you to pick up the handset it's the detachable piece on top of the set."_

She did so and held it in front of her face. "Anthony! Are you okay? What happened."

_"The elevators disappeared, Margaret. We have to get you back before things like this happen! I think you being here is messing up the time continuum."_

There was a groan of pain.

_"Listen, Margaret, they're taking me in for X-rays. I'll be back late tonight, just don't leave the apartment again. Do you understand me? No more field trips. We have to get you back safely."_

There was another grunt of protest and then silence.

"Bloody likely, I'm going back," she wrinkled her nose and placed the handset back on the device. She would wait for his return, but nothing  would convince her to go back. Not even to bring back what these elevators were. She didn't know what it was, so why should it concern her?

A small crinkling and the sound of the box starting up startled her and she snapped around to see a small black child sitting next to Jarvis, stuffing food into his mouth.

"Who are you?" She tilted her head.

"Sam, my Mom works late on Wednesdays, so I watch TV with Tony," he said, unconcerned with her presence. "Who are you?"

"I'm Margaret," she replied uncertainly. "I'm staying at Tony's."

"Steve stays at Tony's sometimes," Sam smiled. "He's weird, but he's nice."

"Really." She could believe the former, but the latter would have to take convincing.

"Yeah, my Mom bakes him cookies and brings him soup when he's sick," he offered the bag to her. "Want some Pirate's Booty?"

She reached in to see what the booty was and pulled out a musty smelling item that looked like a giant cashew. She popped it into her mouth. To her surprise it had a cheesy flavor and was rather good.

She sat down next to Sam and ate another. "Do you like pirates, Sam?"

"Yeah, they're pretty cool," he heard her stomach growl. He giggled and passed her the bag. "You can have the rest."

"Do you know how to cook a frozen meal?" she asked him.

"Yeah, you just stick it in the microwave." he said like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Could you show me? I never used one."

He grinned and jumped up, happy that someone needed his help. "Where are you from Margaret?"

"England," she replied, following him to the kitchen.

"Is it pretty there?" He asked, piercing the film on the container.

"The countryside is."

He directed her on how to set it to the time shown on the box. She watched the microwave light up and the meal spun around inside.

"You sound like a Lady from forever ago."

"Well, I'm not from this time," she said simply. "I was born in 1855."

"Wow!" he looked impressed. "Did you meet any pirates?"

"No," she removed the food from the microwave and found a plate to dump it on. She gave the chocolate to Sam and ate the meal at the table. The food looked terrible and it was soggy and lumpy, but it was edible "I know stories about Pirates though."

"Like who?"

She thought for a moment and leaned in, smiling. "Have you ever heard of the great woman pirate Grace O'Malley?"

He shook his head and scooted closer with interest.

"Oh, she was a brave, fearless woman. Though it was something that was not done, she became the chief of her clan after her father Eoghan. She became leader of his fleet of ships. She was a very smart woman, you see. Her clan saw over the port to Galway. The waters were difficult to navigate and so, she taxed ships that came through in order to raise money for her clans success.

After they ate, they moved back to the living room where Margaret continued to animatedly tell Sam about Grace O'Malley.

"There was a man, Richard Bingham that went from clan to clan turning them under the control of the rule of the English crown. Grace O'Malley was considering it until Lord Bingham killed her eldest son. In revenge she retaliated against his castles and every inch of land. She even took over the castle of her middle son when he came to support the man that killed his brother."

"Hey Sam," a muscular, one-armed brunet entered through the window. "Who's your friend? Where's Tony?"

"Honestly, are there no manners anymore?" she glared at him then looked at Sam. "Does your mother teach you manners?"

The small child nodded.

"Wow," he raised his arm defensively and narrowed his eyes. "Wait, why are you here?" He clenched his fist and lowered it. "How do you know Tony?"

"I am not intimate with Anthony, if that is what you are implying." She raised an eyebrow. "I am just staying here, until I figure out this future New York. I was told to stay here until he got back from the hospital. As for a proper introduction," she stood up and approached him. "Hello, my name is Margaret Carter."

"Huh," he offered his hand. "James Buchanan. I'm Steve's brother. Well, he was adopted by my Mom when his mom died."

Margaret shook it. "Are you a military man?"

He looked at his pinned up sleeve and back to Margaret. "Yeah, still getting used to it. I'm being fitted for a prosthetic."

"And how have those advanced?"

"I… I'm sorry are you an actress?" he asked.

"No, she's from 1876," Sam said proudly. "She's a Duchess!"

"Just Margaret, please," she said. "I don't care for being a Duchess which is why I ran away.

"Wow, you are method," James said, deciding to roll with it.

"Can you finish your story?" Sam asked. "Please?"

"Oh, yes of course," she glanced at the older man. "You are welcome to join?"

"Yeah, sure," he sat down on the couch and Sam hopped up next to him.

Margaret sat in the arm chair falling back into its plush cushions with an oomph!

She sat up as proper as she could, hands folded in her lap and continued on with her story.


	3. Wednesday Again

Steve had seen Margaret on her way and just barely caught the next subway to his work. Much to his dismay, the elevators were shut down here as well. His office was on the 60th floor.

He sat down with the other physically disabled employees setting up shop in the building's waiting area.

Screw this, he needed to be in his office. He pulled out his phone and called his assistant to come to the lobby.

Fifteen minutes later, a giant man, with long blond hair pulled back in a low ponytail, entered the lobby. "What can I do for you, Mr. Rogers?" he asked in a deep Scottish accent.

Steve took note of his assistant's puffy eyes. "Were you crying?"

"I might have picked up a book while waiting for you," he replied sheepishly.

Steve scrubbed his face. "I'm…" he huffed.

"I will do what is necessary for you to do your job."

"God, Thor, you sound just like her." Steve stormed to the stairwell.

"Have I done something wrong?" Thor looked confused.

"No," Steve shook his head. "There was a woman in Tony's apartment last night and this morning she was a real pain in the ass."

"Ah," Thor lifted Steve off his feet and ascended the stairs. "It is okay to swallow your pride, Mr. Rogers. You must not let your heart become permanently hardened like it has in the past few months."

Steve grumbled, but didn't say anything, since he liked having Thor as an assistant. He did, however, want to walk in by himself. He sat at his desk and brought his things together.

"You got your palm pilot back," Thor noted.

"It was a nightmare," he sat at his desk bringing in his papers. He pulled up a blank sheet and clicked a pen. "Okay, who do I owe?"

Thor took a deep breath. "Bobby at Hasbro, Reeves at Crunch, and the finals came in for "Love for sale." The call at the studio is at four this afternoon. The gluten free bread thing is in fifteen minutes in the conference room and Gilmore wants to talk to you before that. Oh, and one more thing, I know you told me to start thinking ahead, so I know your brother is getting back from his retreat tomorrow and if you want something in the fridge…"

"Thor," Steve stopped him and leaned forward. "Can you tell me why I'm upset?"

Thor paused.

"Gilmore called! That's why I have a cellphone!" Steve said even more frustrated.

"He did not call, he just stuck his head in," Thor said defensively. "He only said two sentences."

"So, he's back?" Steve clarified. "J.J. too?"

Thor rested his hands on the desk. "Margo says J.J. is going to make a big announcement about the merger next week and Gilmore is in on it."

"What does Margo know?" Steve asked. The woman was sweet if not a little ditzy at times. "How does she know about anything?"

Thor raised his eyebrows and tilted his head without saying the exact reason.

Steve's eyes widened in realization. "Oh. Alright. Please, tell me exactly what Gilmore said, Thor. Start at the beginning and-"

"He said, to tell Steve that I'm sitting in on Farmer's Bounty today," Gilmore Hodge, the Junior Vice President of the company, interrupted.

Steve stood up. "Gilmore."

"Morning, Steve."

Somehow Gilmore's tone always sounded like he was taunting everyone.

If this merger went right, Gilmore was going to go to London and Steve would take his place. And he would never have to see him again.

Steve prepared himself for the Bounty Bread meeting. He turned to Thor.

"Let me know if there's an emergency," he said.

"Of course," Thor smiled and went to his own desk. He put on his head set and started working.

Steve sighed and swallowed a magnesium pill before chugging down some apple juice. He took a deep breath to prevent any hiccups and went to his meeting.

-  
Meetings were so frustrating. No matter how many times he asked, no one would face him when the spoke. Even if they were speaking to him and they were mad that he couldn't hear them?

What were they saying? Oh, his turn.

He stood up and took his place at the head of the table, in front of two screens one depicting a cheerful, heavy-set woman, the other a thin, but dour-faced woman. Both wore chefs uniforms.

"So, these were your two choices for Farmer's Bounty Bread, to be joined with Farmer's Bounty butter commercial. As a way to stretch the products to appeal to men and women," he gestured to the heavy woman. "While she received relatively positive ratings, most of her write-ins included: Sweet, perky, but doesn't say diet. For the second woman, the write-ins were: pick a dumb blonde and get on with it, Creepy, and, a whopping 78% said: Send her back to the crypt."

"Look, we have to get this done soon," The client said. "It has to mirror Farmer's Bounty Butter and the spot rolls out in four days. We have to—" He sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"We have to do another session," Steve said. "Tomorrow. I had my assistant book the response room at National so we can decide right then and there. Kate McCay said she's willing to share with us so we can see if the actors match well for the commercials."

Steve saw Thor in the window holding up a yellow notes pad with Tony written in big, block letters. What about him?

He shook his head and Thor wrote something else down. Hospital. Steve missed his chair entirely and fell back, spilling coffee all over himself.

"Geez, Steve," One man chuckled. "I'd ask for a decaf."

Steve couldn't tell him that it was already decaf.

The meeting ended almost immediately after with an urge to find a spokesperson. Steve hurried out of there, Thor ready with a clean shirt.

After lunch, he was called in for a private meeting with Gilmore. His heart rate monitor vibrated, telling him his pressure was getting too high. He took slow, deep breaths until it went back down to a more suitable level. He popped his lunch pills into his mouth and swallowed, heading down the hallway.

He knocked on Gilmore's door, who waved him in and gestured for him to sit down.

He sat down awkwardly and waited for his boss to finish his phone call.

Gilmore hung up and stared Steve down.

The smaller man cleared his throat. "What did you want to see me about, Gilmore?"

"You started off here as a nobody from graphics and somehow, you're up for J.J.'s job. If it were wholly up to me, I'd say you deserve it, but couldn't handle it with your condition. You don't do gentleman. You don't do handsome." He raised an eyebrow. "You don't mind me being frank do you?"

Steve shook his head. "Uh, no." He lied.

"I think you'll prove me wrong." When Gilmore picked up another call, Steve took that as a sign for him to leave.

He went to take a quick break and found Thor. He told him what Gilmore said.

"Steven Rogers Senior Vice President!" he said jovially.

"Thor," he whispered. "It hasn't happened. He dangled a carrot in front of me. Until he and J.J. make a decision, the pressure is double."

"Steve," Margo poked her head in. "I have Tony on the line."

"No!" Steve said off the bat.

"He says he's in the hospital," she finished.

Steve's jaw dropped. "Alright, fine. Let me get my coat."

Thor effortlessly piggy-backed Steve down the sixty flights and let him walk the final flight by himself to save face.

"See you at the test screenings tomorrow," he said to his assistant.

"Tomorrow," Thor nodded and jogged back up the stairs.

Steve hailed a taxi and went ahead to see what Tony needed. He may be pissed at the man, but he wasn't about to be cruel. What if Tony truly needed something important?

-  
The nurse led Steve to Tony's room in the emergency ward. His ex-boyfriend looked horrible. His legs were broken, his right arm was broken, his head was wrapped up in bandages, and he had a neck brace.

"Well, don't you look ready for a night on the town," Steve said sarcastically.

"Ha ha, give me a taste of my own medicine," Tony pulled himself into a sitting position with his good arm. "Look, Margaret is just sitting alone in my apartment right now. God knows what could happen to her. Do you know she got outside today?"

"She's not a dog, Tony. Which, speaking of, I made her walk your dog," he said while looking at the X-rays feeling just a little bit of schadenfreude at Tony's injury. He also felt a bit guilty for feeling that way.

"What?" Tony moaned. "No, Steve you can't do that! She can't go outside! She's from 1876, Steve."

Ugh, again with the crazy talk. Steve rolled his eyes and snatched back the flowers he brought.

"She doesn't know our customs," Tony continued. "If something were to happen to her it could be catastrophic."

Steve shushed him loudly.

"If she doesn't go back to April twenty-eighth, 1876, she doesn't get married, she doesn't have children. Oh, and the elevators are going to seem like a walk in the park!"

"Tony, this is embarrassing." Steve said tiredly.

"Someone has to keep an eye on her."

Steve threw his hands up in the air and gathered his stuff. "She is a grown woman, Tony. She's fine. She can't take care of her self. I'm leaving now."

"No, wait," he cried out in pain as he grabbed something off the side table and held it up. It was a small roll of film. "Steve, please, take this to Spectra, tell Manny it's important. Get them developed and you'll see I'm telling the truth."

"You want double prints?" he replied sarcastically.

"This is serious," Tony argued. "This is not a joke."

"You need help Tony," Steve snatched the film anyway and left the hospital, vowing to never answer another call from him.

He ran a couple of errands before going home and by the time we was in his apartment, he was wheezing and his heart rate monitor was beeping out the wazoo.

Ignoring this. He put away the food and froze. Sam.

He sped out the window and up the fire escape. He entered the window and saw Sam sitting with Margaret at the piano and Bucky standing nearby.

Margaret played a soft tune. "Lavender's green, dilly dilly. Lavender's blue. When I am queen, dilly dilly, you shall be King. Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so? 'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly. It told me so."

Sam followed her hand movements and played the song notes from his end of the piano.

"Quite a regular Mozart, aren't you?" Margaret said.

He smiled up at her. "My Mom says I get it from my Dad."

"Bucky, you're back early," Steve spoke up.

"Hey," his best friend smiled. "I invited Margaret over for dinner."

"Hm." Steve scowled. "Buck, can you help me out downstairs?"

"Yeah, sure."

In his own apartment once more, Steve whirled around to Bucky. "You invited her to dinner?"

"Steve, she's there all alone, I was being polite." Bucky went to cross his arms and paused. He placed his hand on his hip. "What's the matter with you? Ever since Tony broke up with you, you've been a real dick."

"Say that sentence again and analyze it," Steve growled. "I'm tired, Bucky. I am trying very hard to get this promotion so that I can stop running around. I'll oversee everything from my desk."

"Yeah and what? Become a permanent asshole like Hodge?"

"No," Steve slammed the oven shut. "I'm not trying to be an ass right now. I'm just frustrated."

"Whatever, you finish cooking. I'll set the table," Bucky said.

Once the food was done and the table was set, a knock came from the front door.

"I'll get it," Bucky offered.

Steve sat down and rested his elbows on the table bowing his head.

"I thought it'd be polite to use the door this time," Margaret's voice sounded.

"You look very nice Margaret." Bucky walked into the eating area.

Sam jumped into his chair and sat on his heels so he could see everything. "Thanks for cooking Steve!"

"No problem, little guy." Sam was a sweet kid. His Mom works really hard to take care of him while his Dad is away in the Air Force.

Steve did a double take when Margaret entered the room. She wore a long flowing blue skirt and a high collared white button up shirt. She twisted up her hair into a bun. Her ensemble was simple and old fashioned, but she made it work.

She paused for a moment as if wait. She blinked and pulled out her own chair.

"What?" Steve raised an eyebrow at her.

"I am not accustomed to pulling out my own chair," she placed her napkin neatly in her lap. "So, what meal are we dining on today?"

"Soup," Steve replied.

"What kind?"

"Italian. I found the recipe in a cook book."

"And the next course?"

"Dessert."

"We don't have multiple courses, Duchess," Bucky smiled.

"Ah, I see," she smiled. "Well, I can get accustomed I'm sure. After all, I see that you are a working man and a full four course meal takes hours to make."

"Yeah," Steve ladled soup into everyone's bowls. He might have been upset but he wasn't going to make Margaret pour her own soup after he already ladled some for Sam and Bucky. Before anyone could begin to eat, Steve held out his hands.

Sam and Bucky took them and held their hands out for Margaret to take. Confused, she accepted and followed in bowing her head.

Steve said a quick blessing. He made a sign of the cross. "Amen."

"Amen," Sam and Bucky echoed.

"Amen," Margaret let go of their hands and began to eat. It was rather good. It had flavors and textures in it that she wasn't used to.

They ate in silence for a little bit.

"So, what do you do after you eat?" she asked when she saw everyone's bowls were nearly empty.

"Watch TV," Sam answered. "It doesn't take long to eat."

"Where I come from, the meals last hours, so they can be a time of reflection and study." She said. "Menus are prepared in advance, timed to perfection. It is said that without the culinary arts, the crudeness of reality would be unbearable."

"I haven't studied while eating, since college," Bucky joked. "But, I can see how life is unbearable without good food."

"Then again, you actually have purpose to your life." She decided. "No need to waste four hours total eating. However, I simply cannot give up tea time. I was appalled to find not even a kettle."

Steve made a face. "For arguments sake, let's agree that you really are from 1876. Tony said you have to go home. He'll be back in a week to take you there. Then, you can have your tea time back."

"He assured me he would be back late tonight," Margaret said, perplexed.

"Maybe he will, since he's so big on keeping his promises," Steve said sarcastically. "Anyway, if you leaving makes the elevators come back, then good."

Margaret pursed her lips. "It doesn't matter, I'm not going back. I'll carry you up and down stairs myself if it means never going back."

"Tony said you have to." Steve said exasperated.

"I don't want to," Margaret set down her spoon.

A knock came at the door and a slender black woman let herself in. "Sam sweetie, it's time to go home."

"Okay Mom!"

She came in. "Ooh, Steven that soup smells good."

"Please, take some Mrs. Wilson," Steve stood up and pulled out a small soup tureen. He poured half the pot of soup into it and placed the lid.

"Thank you," she patted his cheek and set down a cookie tin. "I made your favorite."

"Snickerdoodles?" Steve smiled. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"You bet." She chuckled and handed her keys to Sam before picking up the soup. "I'll return this to you tomorrow."

"Take your time," Steve waved his hand dismissively. "Have a nice night."

"You too, sweetie. Welcome home, Bucky."

"Thanks, Mrs. Wilson," he responded. "Bye Sam."

"Bye."

Mrs. Wilson and Sam left the apartment.

"So, the sourpuss does have manners," Margaret smirked.

"Look, I'm tired. Can you just go away now?" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have an important meeting tomorrow that will set my future at the company."

"Alright, a career is important to a man," she stood up and ladled herself some more soup. "I'm taking this with me. You're a wonderful cook."

She left through the fire escape, not spilling a single drop of soup. She found the man intriguing. If only he wasn't so rude. She thought about why he was acting that way. She fed the dog, before sitting down and finishing her dinner.

Perhaps it was heartbreak. She became rather nasty a while after her fiancé left her for another woman. Angelina helped her through it. She soon became exhausted from her behavior and decided that every time she wasted another thought on him, was letting him win.

Ah. That was it. Anthony broke Steve's heart and now Steve thought she was replacing him.

After eating. She readied herself for the night and curled up on the couch. It felt odd when she lay in Anthony's bed. When she acquires her own apartment


	4. Thursday

Steve was half-way through his morning routine when a ruckus started from upstairs. The wail of the smoke detector caused his hearing aid to squeal in his ear. He groaned and went upstairs to find out what Margaret did.

He coughed as he entered the smoke filled kitchen. He opened the window, snatched a metal pan, and waved it in the air to disperse the smoke so the detector would stop.

"That thing is damn hazard," Margaret shouted, pointing at the toaster.

"It's just a toaster," Steve rolled his eyes and gathered the numerous pieces of burnt to a crisp.

"You'd think the General of Electric would have more pride in his inventions," Margaret huffed. Her disheveled state would have been funny if Steve hadn't've been so annoyed. "Press the lever twice and you get charcoal, yet once merely produces warm bread! So therefore the toast needs one-and-a-half pushes in order to receive the desired browning."

"You know what? Nobody gives a shit about pushing the toast down twice!" Steve trashed the charcoal bread. "Because everyone pushes their toast down twice."

"Breakfast is not thus way!" she argued.

"Oh right, because food is a time of reflection and study," he retorted.

"You mock me, but when you wake up one morning to a hearty breakfast of honey-roasted ham, topped with a fried egg and warm freshly bread baked in a stone oven, smothered with marmalade and fresh creamery butter then perhaps you would understand."

He stared up at her, mesmerized. "Say that again."

"Excuse me?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Okay," Steve thought about his words carefully. "I need spokesperson and I think you are perfect. If you do this for me, I will stop pushing for you to go home and you can use my Ma's tea set. Here's the catch. I need you in your old clothes."

"That is not an easy feat," she warned.

"I'll help where I can, just please," he clasped his hands together and looked up at her pleadingly.

Oh. How could she say no to those big, blue eyes? "Getting dressed is not an easy feat for a lady."

"Like, I said, I'll help."

Margaret's cheeks flushed. "I've never been in my undergarments in front of a man before."

"Oh," he blushed. "I can cover my eyes."

"But you have to tie up my corset and add the tapes and the bustle. I can put on my shirt, then the skirt has to be put on and the rest, I shall do myself."

"Wow… okay." Steve took a deep breath. "I'll cover my eyes and then I can tighten the corset."

"Right," he watched as she gathered her clothing and pulled a key from her pocket.

She grunted and set a giant suitcase onto the kitchen table. He glanced over her shoulder when she opened it up and saw numerous wooden and silver boxes. She gently set out the items and removed the items she told him about.

"How much did you fit in there?" He asked.

"Angelina is a very good packer," she replied with more than a hint of pride. "I could have the same amount of clothing as my aunt and Angelina could fit it into half the luggage. Remove them and there's not a single wrinkle."

Steve quickly averted his eyes when she undressed. When he peeked and saw the underwear, he lowered his hands. That wasn't even a swimsuit.

"That's underwear?"

She jumped and held her hands over her chest. "Yes. Do you mind?"

He scoffed. "Women wear less than that out in public." He was already starting to wonder if she was for real or just an escaped mental patient. He still wasn't fully watching her. He wasn't a perv.

"Oh." She glanced at him and slid the corset over her head. She pulled up her breasts into the cups.

Okay, that caught his attention. He flushed and forced himself to look away. She turned her back to him.

"Not too tight, please," she said softly.

"Right, no problem." Still blushing, he stepped forward and tightened the ribbons through the holes one by one. He went through it once, just to make sure it was secure. Her breathing hitched and he quickly loosened them. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," she assured him. "It's just a bit hard on the skin."

"Right…" he tied off the top.

He saw the hesitation as Margaret faced him with the bustle. He couldn't help but look at her long scar before his gaze slightly lowered.

"Please, don't stare," she asked.

He snapped his eyes up to hers. "I- I didn't mean to. I mean you– I– er."

"It happened on accident." She said. Oh. The scar. "It makes it difficult to wear evening dresses. My aunt makes it very well known that she hates the constant use of day dresses."

She turned once more so he could tape on the bustle.

"Right, no," he shook his head forcing himself back on track and taped the bustle to her butt. "I… since you're staying. Well, if they choose you to be their spokesperson. After they film the commercial, you won't have to wear these clothes ever again. They'll give you a paycheck up front and then you'll get paid smaller amounts as the commercial is on air, since they're using your image."

"I understood very little," Margaret admitted. "But I'll trust what you are saying is true."

"I might be surly right now, but I am honest."

"A little too honest," she waved him away and she put on her underskirt and then her shirt, then her heavier overskirt on top of that. She tied up her neck scarf, pinned her brooch to that, layered her vest over that, and then put on her coat. "There."

Steve watched as she brushed out her brown curls with a silver brush. She moved to the hall mirror and simply pinned them back. She returned and applied red to her lips, then put on her jewelry. She turned to Steve.

"How do I look?" she smiled.

Steve found himself inspired by her beauty. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

"Was Lucky walked?"

"Of course."

"Great. Let me grab my bag and we'll go." He clamored out the window and up the fire escape. He forced himself to calm down. Now was not the time to get a crush on a beautiful Victorian Duchess who is most likely just a crazy person.

He returned and led her out of the apartment.  
-  
They barely arrived barely in time at the grey building. Steve led Margaret down the hallway. Thor was there waiting for them.

"Thor, Margaret. Margaret, Thor," Steve introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you," Margaret automatically held out her hand.

Thor gave it a light kiss. "Pleasure is mine."

"Thor, show Margaret to the filming area and tell her what to do. I need to go be in the booth with the client." Steve ordered.

"Yes, Mr. Rogers."

Steve stepped into the booth just as the client was getting agitated.

"Look, can we just pick one?" the man said. "The margarine people already found their guy!"

"Wait, we have just one more person," Steve said. He couldn't lose his chance.

"Look, the slot is in two weeks we have to pick someone," Gilmore said, giving Steve a look.

"Please, just trust me," he glanced at the screen and saw Margaret in front of the camera as well as the men from the test audience looking at their monitors with a dazed smile.

"Look at them, they were in a coma all day and now they're wide awake," he walked over to see Margaret from his spot. "To them, she's a dream. She's polite, elegant, greets you when you walk into a room. Buy her bread and perhaps your stomach will shrink and she'll come to your door."

"Fine, whatever," the client sat back. Steve could tell that the men in this booth like Margaret too.

"You better be right," Gilmore lightly threatened.

"Is it to be taken on Geraldo?" Margaret looked at the man behind the camera.

"Yes," he replied. "Begin speaking when I say action."

Margaret readjusted herself and looked straight into the camera.

"And… action!"

Margaret smiled serenely. "Warm, stone oven-baked bread. Is there anything more comforting? I say there is. When you eat Farmer's Bounty gluten-free spelt bread. You get all the luxury of your breakfast, without adding to the luxury of your waistline. Farmer's Bounty."

"And, cut!"

Steve noticed her smile fall a bit. He also noticed her breathing becoming stuttered. She put a hand to her chest and frowned. He was ready to run in there when she straightened up and rest her hand back on her stomach.

"Alright," the client nodded decisively. "I like her."

"We'll start filming Monday," Gilmore nodded. "And I think our decision about the merger has become a lot easier to make."

Steve grinned and nodded. "Thank you." He and the client left the booth to meet Margaret.

The client shook Margaret's hand hard. "Hi, what's your name?"

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," she replied and shook her hand out.

"Welcome to television," the man smiled and passed Margaret an envelope.

She took it, folded it neatly, and stuck it into her skirt pocket. "Thank you very much for seeing me today."

"See you again on Monday," he turned and left.

Gilmore met them outside of the building and whapped Steve on the back. Steve's knees buckled slightly and he grabbed onto Margaret's arm.

"Gotta hand it to you, Rogers," he smirked. "Maybe you are Vice President material." He turned and gave Margaret a lecherous stare. "Where'd you find her?"

"I live in his building," she replied.

"Huh, you two dating?"

"Uh, no," Steve shook his head.

"Hm," he rested his hand on her arm. "Perhaps we could go to dinner. Maybe talk some more about your bread."

Margaret scowled, but before she could defend herself Steve stepped in. "Boss or no boss, you can't talk to a woman like that."

"Relax, Rogers," he held his hands up. "I'm just flirting. She's fine with it."

"Really, I am not. I cannot even pretend to feel flattered by your comment." She looped her arm with Steve's and walked away. "I could've taken care of myself, you know."

"Yeah, but it's nicer when you don't have to," he shrugged. "Besides, he's being relocated to England. So, I won't have to see him again after this merger."

"A very sad send off for everyone, I'm sure," she said sarcastically.

If he stared a little too long at her smile, he wouldn't admit it. "Come on, let's go get some lunch and we can cash in your check. Do you have a bank?"

"The Bank of New York," she replied.

"Um… we can see if we can access it. If not, then we'll just take it to one of those cash places for people who can't afford bank accounts." Steve decided. He waved his hand for a cab, hoping someone would stop.

"What about this?"

He turned and saw her petting a beautiful black horse attached to a carriage.

"Those are for tourists," he dismissed. A taxi slowed down and he tapped on the doors. "Hey."

A scruffy man ran over and snatched Steve's bag.

"Hey!" Steve gripped the strap and tugged.

The thief kicked Steve in the chest sending him back into the door of the taxi. He turned around face to face with Margaret.

"Hello," she smiled politely before head butting him in the nose. While his hands were up, she punched him in the stomach. He dropped the bag and fell over. She picked it up and kicked the man's rear shoving him face first into the ground. A police officer ran over and arrested the thief, when Margaret slung the bag across her chest and reached down to help Steve.

"I had him on the ropes," he slurred.

"Of course you did," she cooed. "You slowed him down. I just finished him off."

"That was amazing," he smiled.

"Well, if it isn't Miss fancy pants," the officer said.

Margaret looked up recognizing her immediately. "Oh, hello again, Officer…

"Viola," she smiled. "Pretty tough thing you did, stopping that thief and all in that Victorian dress."

"I couldn't let him get away with it." Margaret replied and helped Steve to his feet. "Just because I'm a lady does not mean I am helpless."

"Hey," the driver of the carriage leaned over. "How about a free ride?"

"Oh, that is very kind of you, sir. Thank you."

Viola helped Margaret get Steve into the carriage. "Sir, would you like to file a report for assault?"

He shook his head. "It happens all the time."

"Just because it happens to people doesn't mean—"

"No, to me," he grunted and sat up. "I'll be okay."

Margaret rolled her lips displeased to hear that he faced this kind of assault often.

Viola reluctantly got out of the carriage. "Alright, be safe." She nodded and hauled the thief off.

The driver leaned over to Steve. "Your girlfriend is one heck of a fighter."

"Yeah…" he said, not bothering to argue.

Margaret pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe the blood off her forehead.

"Are you for real?" he asked her, stupefied.

"I believe I am," she replied with a sweet smile.

When they reached back the apartment, they decided Chinese food should be the first different thing she ate that wasn't frozen food.  
  
"How about you go upstairs and change? I'll order us lunch." he said. "Are you going to be okay getting your corset off?"

"Yes, taking it off is easier then lacing it up," she pecked him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for your concern."

Steve watched her and sighed, he went inside and saw Bucky sprawled out on the couch.

"Oh no," Bucky said.

"What?"

"You got that look on your face," he accused.

"I don't have a look."

"Yes, you do. Who is it? Is it your assistant? I'm pretty sure the straightest man in the world would decide otherwise for him."

"No, it's not Thor." He blushed and rubbed his neck.

"Yesterday, you despised her and today you've got a crush?" Bucky chuckled. "What did she do?"

"She head butted the guy who tried to steal my bag and knocked me down," he said almost dreamily.

"Wait, what?!" Bucky stared him down. "Are you hurt?"

"Not really." Steve shook his head and grabbed the phone, smiling. "Do you think she'll like Chinese?"

"I dunno," Bucky shook his head. "I'll be right back."

"What?" Steve looked up.

Bucky faced him. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, okay," Steve nodded. "Your usual?"

He nodded in reply.

While Steve ordered the food, Bucky went down the fire escape to have a little chat with Margaret.

He knocked on the window and announced himself as he climbed in. He stumbled a bit and cursed his phantom limb.

"Yes, James?" he looked up and saw Margaret already dressed in loose attire.

"You really need to get your own clothes," he commented.

"That is not why you came to speak to me," she stated. "Please come forward about it."

"Steve likes you," he said.

"I was under the impression that he didn't."

"Tony hurt him really bad," James sat down. "He's not very good with love or relationships. Three years in a relationship is a long time. I honestly think it was both of them. They fought a lot and they're stubborn. They're too career oriented to even think about supporting each other. I also think the last year was dead space. Steve was holding on to something he believed might have still been there. They broke it off a month ago."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"He's becoming attached to you."

"Did he say this?"

"He didn't have to."

Margaret looked down at her lap and couldn't stop the small smile. "He is completely unorthodox. I haven't known him but two days and what I saw today? I liked that man. If I can help him stay that man, then it will be happily done. But only if I see this man again.

"I did him a favor today by selling Farmer's Bounty bread. I shall complete the favor Monday. If he continues his former attitude towards me. Then I will no longer spare him a second thought."

"Okay," Bucky said simply.

"However," she stood up. "I intend to collect his promised tea set now."

She and Bucky went back to Steve's apartment where he sat on the couch reading.

"Steve," Margaret said, receiving no answer.

"Steve," she tried again only louder. She walked over and tapped on his shoulder. He jumped and looked up at her.

She spoke a bit louder. "You promised a tea set?"

"Oh, yeah," he stood up and removed sheeted canvases and a large wooden easel out of the way of a china cabinet. He opened it up and pulled out a rose tea set along with a silver tray. "Here."

She gasped and lifted up the tea cup with a gold trim. "Oh, It's lovely."

"Huh?"

"It's lovely," she made sure she was looking at him this time. She placed the pieces on the tray and brought them to the kitchen to wash them, as they were dusty from disuse.

The doorbell rang. Bucky answered and paid the delivery man. The food was set on the counter and paper plates were taken out.

"It smells delicious," Margaret said, drying off the teapot.

"I got what Bucky and I usually order so help yourself."

"Thank you, I will."

No sooner had they started eating did Steve's phone ring. He sighed and answered. "This is Steve Rogers."

He listened to the person on the other end. "Yes, I'll be there."

He snapped his phone shut and groaned. "I have a dinner meeting tonight." He hunched over and groaned once more.

"Would you be requiring an escort?"

"No. I don't need an escort," he sat up. "But thanks. Let's just relax until I have to go."

So they did.

 


	5. Thursday into Friday

Out of curiosity Margaret explored the items in Steve's apartment while he got ready for his meeting. She pulled the sheet off one of the canvases and found a beautiful painting of a wave crashing against a cliff at sunset. She couldn't help but touch it to make sure it wasn't real.

It was taken out of her grasp by Steve. He turned it so that the back of the canvas was all you could see.

"I was curious," she said softly.

"It's just a hobby," he shrugged. "They're nothing special."

"Nothing special?" she picked it up again. "It's beautiful!"

"It doesn't make money," he took it from her once more and stuck it in a nook among other canvases. "I need to go. Why don't you hang out with Bucky?"

"Alright, goodbye."

"Bye," he stuffed his wallet and keys in his pockets and left.

"Wanna go hang out with my friends?" Bucky asked.

"I don't think I have appropriate clothes," she responded.

"Eh, just put on your boots and a pair of pants. It'll be fine." he shrugged.

"Well, alright." What harm was there in meeting more people?

So, she found herself staring into the window of what James called a "club". She was picturing a gentleman's club, not a place where people drank and danced.

"See her?" Bucky pointed. "That's Natasha."

Margaret peered in the window to see a beautiful redhead talking to a bartender.

"She's beautiful," Margaret complimented. She really was a stunning woman.

"She's mine," Bucky entered the building.

"Congratulations," Margaret said, happy for him.

He walked in and headed to a table filled with his friends. "Everyone, this is Margaret. Margaret, this is Jennifer Walters, Carol Danvers, Hope Pym, Scott Lang, James Rhodes, T'Challa, and this… is Natasha Romanoff."

"Hi," the red head set the brightly colored drinks on the table. "Just call me Nat. Why don't you two pull up a chair?"

All they really did was drink and chat. Margaret watched James and Natasha, but he did nothing except answer questions when asked.

"So, where are you from Marge?" Scott asked.

"It's Margaret and I'm from York in London." she responded.

"Cool," he rested his head on Hope's shoulder. "So, guess you don't like nicknames?"

"Not particularly," she glanced at the members of the table. "How do you all know each other?"

"Military support group," Jennifer answered. "We ended up becoming friends and now we hang out."

"Some of us more than friends," Scott glanced up at Hope, who in turn rolled her eyes. "Come on. You love me."

"I'd tolerate this if you actually drank," she said.

"But, I don't. You're stuck with this guy." He pointed his thumb at himself.

Margaret found herself liking these people a lot. They were fun and light hearted despite the battle scars they bore.

"What do you do, Margaret?" Natasha asked. "Were you military?" She gestured to her own chest.

Margaret self-consciously tugged the shirt to cover her collar bone. "No, I'm actually going to be in a commercial. We're filming it Monday. It's for Farmer's Bounty bread."

"Ah, Steve hired you," Jennifer said.

"No, he asked me and I said alright," she corrected.

"Farmer's Bounty does not sell decent products," T'Challa's accent was thick. "However, Steve is very desperate to get this promotion."

"Why does he do this?" Margaret asked. "I've seen his art. Why can't he do that for a living."

To her confusion, the whole table burst out laughing.

"No doubt his art is good," Carol said. "But, it's tough out there and Steve's going to be paying medical bills for the rest of his life. He needs a high-paying job."

"Oh. I see."

The matter was dropped. A few hours later, everyone said good night and parted ways.

"That is your idea of courting?" Margaret asked James incredulously.

"Um…"

"Honestly, have you nary an idea on how to talk to women?" she asked.

"I used to, but Natasha is the first one I've really felt a connection with."

"Then connect." she pressed. "Alright, while Steve is at work tomorrow. We're going to buy Natasha some flowers, you are going to buy her tickets to a show and you will ask her out on a formal outing!"

"Hey, I'm doing fine on my own with this," he argued.

"How many outings have you had that would have required a chaperone?"

"None," he admitted sheepishly.

"There we go." She said triumphantly.

Margaret went ahead to her own apartment and looked around. "Speaking of outings…" She found a long feather, some paper, and a jar labeled Indian Ink. She set herself up at Anthony's desk and wrote out a letter for Steve.

She dried the ink, folded up the letter and tied it shut with a ribbon. She snuck down into Steve's apartment and placed the letter in his satchel. A small snore made her jump. She whirled around and saw Steve sprawled out on the couch, still in his dinner clothes.

Even in his sleep, he looked worn out and tired. She draped a blanket over him and tucked a cushion under his head.

She snuck back to her own floor and went to sleep feeling happier than she had for a long while.  
-  
Steve woke up late and had to rush into the office. All he could do was grab a protein bar to eat on the subway.

"Bye Steve," Bucky waved.

"Bye Buck."

Once at work, Thor carried him up the stairs. Because of Thor's inability to get tired, he was being paid extra to help the physically disabled employees to their offices no matter what the floor.

Steve gave him an extra hour lunch so the giant man could rest up for when peoples shifts were over. He went about his work until his four o'clock meeting.

While one of his coworkers started the meeting, going on about the customer approval ratings for a new kind of paper towel. He looked through his papers and found cream colored paper tied up with a pink ribbon. Glancing around he subtly opened it up and read the letter.

Dearest Steve,

I know we got off on the wrong foot. In part of our misunderstandings and also in part of my pride and your undeniable stubbornness.

However, in light of yesterday's events and new understandings, I hope you would like to start again by having dinner with me tonight, upon the roof of your building. I wish to know the man in you I met yesterday.

Sincerely,

Margaret

His coworker tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up. "What?"

"Where are we with Farmer's Bounty?" Gilmore asked.

"Where we are," he repeated. "Where we are is good. Margaret has a ninety-seven percent approval rating in the top two boxes, her key male descriptors were beautiful, elegant with several write-ins of… what a babe."

"Great."

The meeting ended there.

Steve passed his things to Thor. "Take care of those please?"

"Yes sir," he smiled.

Steve entered the restroom to take his afternoon pills now that he had food in his stomach from the meeting. He internally groaned when he saw Gilmore enter the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" the man asked.

Steve glanced down. "Just taking my anaemia pills."

"Hm."

There was a moment of silence.

"You're not sleeping with Margaret are you?" Gilmore asked out of the blue.

What? "No."

Gilmore chuckled and washed his hands. "Didn't think so, she's a real hot piece of ass."

Steve fought back the urge to punch his boss. He'd be gone in just two more weeks, whether Steve got the job or not.

Steve glanced at himself in the mirror and wondered what Margaret saw in him. He was ninety-five pounds, wheezed when he breathed when there was pollen in the air, he had to wear a back brace sometimes, though she didn't know that, he was much shorter than her, and the only thing he had going for him was that he had a nice job.

Maybe that was it.

"By the way," Hodge gave Steve a mean smile. "J.J. said if everything goes right at the filming on Monday, she's sure to become senior VP. But hey, maybe if the Junior VP decides to retire, you'll get her spot."

He headed back to his office fingers twitching wanting to smash something or punch the next asshole that comes along. Instead of his stress ball, he found a response letter on his desk. "Thor? What's this?"

His assistant entered. "A response letter to Margaret's invitation." He answered simply.

"Why?"

"Because that is a wonderful opportunity," he argued. "She sees something in you, it's four thirty, we can fax it."

"She's probably insane, Thor," Steve sighed.

"Wouldn't hurt to try."

He gave in. "Alright, fax it to Tony's, she's staying there while he's in the hospital."

"I can do that."

-Meanwhile-

After cashing in her check for cash, Margaret and Bucky headed to the flower shop, Margaret scanned the street musicians in search for someone to play while she and Steve had dinner, if he chose to accept it. Either way, the musician would get paid.

Bucky headed inside just after a sandy haired man.

She bumped into another man while getting the violinists' attention.

"I beg your pardon," they said simultaneously. They did a double-take eyes wide.

He bowed. "Duchess Margaret."

She curtsied. "Duke Leopold. If you're here for me, I'm not going back."

"I didn't even know you were missing," he responded crisply. "Whether it interests you or not, I was paying this man to play at a dinner for me tonight."

"Oh, so was I," she rolled her lips. "I suppose I'll find another musician."

She entered the shop with him as well. "I'm not intending to follow you," she clarified.

"Nor I you." he looked up. "Charles, have you found flowers for Patrice?"

"Yeah," the sandy haired man answered and snatched a bouquet out of a basket. He saw Margaret. "Who're you."

"Margaret Carter, former Duchess of York," she replied. "Excuse me."

She headed over to Bucky, who was staring at a variety of red flowers.

He jumped a bit when he saw her. "Oh, hey. Where'd you go?"

"I ran into the Duke of Albany."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Huh."

"Perhaps a classic bouquet of red roses?" she suggested.

He shook his head. "No. She's allergic to anything in the rose family. Almonds, strawberries, you name it."

"I see." She grabbed a Make-Your-Own-Bouqet wrap. "How about Gardenia for Secret Love, Heather for Admiration, and Jonquil for Desire for affection returned."

"Wow, that's good," he grabbed three of each and wrapped them up. Once he paid for them, he and Margaret left in search of a musician for the dinner.

"Maybe you should just go with the stereo," Bucky suggested. "He can't hear music too well."

"Alright, then… a meal is next," she frowned. "I can't cook."

"We'll figure something out. We should get you some of your own clothes. While you get some female clothes, we can ponder what to do about dinner. First things first, we'll need to go to Victoria's Secret."

"What's her secret?"

"It's an undergarment store." he said. "I'll be waiting outside."

"Oh, I see," she nodded. "That makes sense."

The women at the store complimented her figure and fitted her. She left feeling delightfully free. She bought two more sets alongside the one she tried in nude, black, and the red.

"Macy's has nice clothes," Bucky commented.

"Is she a seamstress?"

"No, it's a clothing store," Bucky chuckled. "You got a lot to get used to."

"It seems I do."

They took a taxi to Macy's.

Inside, Margaret gaped at how massive the store was. Racks upon racks of clothes filled up every piece of carpeted space.

"How do we choose?" she said softly.

"I dunno," Bucky shrugged. "I just grab what I need and pay. I hear it's more difficult for women."

It was.

"Why is it, that in this brand I'm one number and in an entirely different brand I'm another? It makes absolutely no sense! How do you manage?"

"Men's pants go by waist and inseam, not numbers. So… we don't have to manage."

She harrumphed. It took them two hours for her to find clothing she liked in her size. She was mortified with the low necklines despite the fact that they were more modest than the evening dresses in her time.

"These necklines are so low," she said perusing the dresses.

"You should go with that though," Bucky said.

"Whatever for?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Steve is very insecure. If you show your…" he gestured to his collarbone. "He'll see that you're only human too."

"I see," she ran her hands across fabrics and found a red v-neck dress with a ruffled collar. She went to the dressing room and tried it on, the skirt going just past her knees. It hugged her full figure and she was able to look past the scar.

She was beautiful. Why keep hiding it because her Aunt made her?

She didn't show the dress to Bucky. She just chose a pair of shoes.

"I hate shopping." She said to Bucky.

"I do too, we're almost done." he sighed. "You should get Olive Garden for Steve. He likes it, even though New Yorkers don't think it's real Italian. It doesn't give him heartburn or indigestion."

"There, that's settled." She paused and looked at the makeup stand. "Maybe shopping won't be so bad." She gathered the bags and flowers from Bucky and gave him a fiver. "Why don't you get a snack, I'll be but a moment."

He chuckled. "Alright."

She was greeted by a woman at the counter.

"I need makeup, I want to know how to apply it, and the lipstick must be red," Margaret said immediately.

The woman gave her a wide smile. "Of course! Does your boyfriend like red?"

"He's not my boyfriend. He's helping me prepare for a date with his brother."

"Ooh! How exciting."

Margaret never realized how much makeup could do. She especially liked what the eyeliner and mascara did.

Bucky came back just as she was paying for the makeup and brushes.

"Please tell me this is all I need," she said.

"Yep," Bucky checked his watch. Let's go back so I can ask out Natasha.

"Grand idea."  
-  
Margaret folded up her clothes and laid out her outfit for that night. She watched Bucky as he called Natasha.

"Hey, Nat," he said nervously. "It's Bucky. I was just wondering if you were busy tonight. I understand if you are but… I just. I really admire you. Your strength and how graceful you are when you speak and move."

His mouth stretched into a wide grin. "I was thinking maybe a movie and afterwards we could do dinner."

"Great! I'll pick you up at six," he said. "Alright, bye."

He hung up and pumped his hand in the air. "Yes!"

"Congratulations, James," Margaret smiled. "Is it alright if I call in for Mine and Steve's dinner now?"

"Yeah, sure," Bucky pulled up the number in yellow pages and punched it in. He carefully wrote down the order and the address on a piece of paper, using a ceramic bird to weigh down the paper so it wouldn't slide around.

"Yes, hello, I'd like to place an order for delivery."  
-  
Steve came home and dumped his bag on the table.

"Hey, Steve," Bucky greeted from the open bathroom door. "How was work?"

"Hodge said I wasn't good enough for Margaret and then told me Kate McCay was probably going to become Senior VP."

"What a dick."

He shrugged it off. "You look nice, where are you going?"

"On a date with Nat," he smiled. "Have fun on your date with Margaret."

"Oh, right," he shrank in on himself.

"Hey," Bucky tapped his friend on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. She likes you a lot."

"Okay."

"She does," Bucky pressed. "I gotta go, see you later."

"Good luck," Steve called after him.

"You too."

Left alone, Steve decided to make himself look as decent as he possibly could. He showered, combed his hair, a touch of cologne behind the ear. He wasn't sure if you actually put it there. He dressed in a navy suit with a light blue shirt and a plain navy tie.

When he was sure he was more human than cadaver, he made his way up to the roof. He'd never been there. He'd seen Tony's neighbor, Bruce ascend the stairs sometimes when he saw him in the hallway.

He stepped cautiously through the door, paranoid of some sort of prank.

The paranoia was lost when he saw the garden. He never knew this was up here. It was fall so many of the flowers were wilting but some were in full bloom. He saw Margaret sitting at a wrought iron table filled with food and wine glasses filled with what looked like water.

He took the stone pathway to her and she stood up to greet him. He lost his breath at the sight of her.

"I'm glad you decided to join me," she said, voice smooth as silk. "Please, sit."

Still dumbstruck, he did as she said.

She wrung her hands, feeling slightly anxious at his lack of speech. "I took the liberty of getting dinner." She placed a bowl of soup in front of him. "I was told there were four courses. Soup, entrée, salad, and then dessert. They're all lined up so we can take our time."

"Um… thank you."

"I've never done this before," she said. "Until I came here, I'd never been alone with a man."

"Oh." He rubbed his neck unable to help but feel special. "Can I ask why you ran away?"

"Because, I wanted to more with my life than to submit to the man who decided to marry me."

"Yeah, I don't see anyone forcing you to submit." he flushed. "That sounded wrong."

"Did you intend something else?"

"No, I just meant you're strong."

"Then you said it right." She stirred the soup with her spoon. "How did you and Anthony meet?"

"We were at the same support group for heart surgery," he rubbed his chest. "Believe it or not, even though I still have arrhythmia, I'm a lot better than I was before. Tony? He had shrapnel in his chest and didn't concern himself with it until they got infected. I guess I liked him because of how loose he was and he was funny."

Margaret stretched her hand out and placed it on top of his. "His loss is my gain."

Steve flushed from his ears to his neck.

After that, the evening was spent with idle yet halting chit chat.

"You have no idea how to talk to women who like you do you?" she asked.

He chuckled. "I think this is the longest conversation I've had with one. I like women, but I seem to attract more men. I don't care about that though. I just want to find the right partner."

"Can I ask you another personal question?"

"Sure."

"I know you brushed it off earlier, but why did you choose your current career, rather than be an artist?" She rested her chin on top of her hands.

"I didn't choose the job, it just happened," he shrugged. "I started off in graphics making advertisements for billboards. I chose that because it meant that I could still draw, even if I couldn't choose the topic.

"I got laid off, but rehired as an assistant to the position I'm currently in. They found out that I had an eye for finding what appealed most to the customer. Now, I want the promotion, because it means I can finally rest. No more running around, I can go to see commercial shoots if I want. Most importantly? I have the opportunity to take business trips around the world."

He huffed out a humorless laugh. "Looking at it, it seems a little bit empty, but maybe all that hard work will lead to something better."

"Are you always this dramatic?" she asked with a smile.

He laughed genuinely this time. "I've been told that once or twice."

"I have another personal question, which you can choose whether or not to answer," she hesitated a moment. "You were with Anthony for three years. What happened?"

He shrugged. "I guess we just drifted. I really did love him. I think he loved me too. I don't know where it went wrong."

"Perhaps, your interests stretched too far apart. You lost anything you had in common?"

"Maybe that's it," he looked at her sheepishly. "Maybe he was meant to help me find the right person."

She smiled shyly and took his hand. "I think I like that theory. Perhaps, in some way, you'll lead him to his as well."

"Are you always this optimistic?" he asked.

"Oh, heavens no. I'm rather a dreary person," she teased. "More rain, than shine."

"Must be an English thing, then," he joked.

They both shivered when a cool wind swept in.

"Let's get you inside and warm." She stood up and packed their leftover food and dishes away into a brown bag.

They ended up going to Steve's apartment. Steve washed the dishes, while Margaret took Jarvis out to do his business.

She returned soon enough, cheeks flushed and nose cold.

"Oh, here," Steve grabbed a thick wool blanket off an armchair and draped it over her shoulder.

"Thank you."

They both sat on the couch not knowing what else to say.

Margaret felt like she should be embarrassed, to get up and leave, because all of this is inappropriate. Alone with a man you haven't officially been courting, especially one you've known only since Wednesday.

They hadn't even made their intentions clear.

"Margaret?"

"Yes, Steve?"

"Why do you like me?"

"Because, when you are in a much more agreeable state, it's easy to like you," she explained truthfully. "And I hear that the behavior I saw when we first met is unusual for you, so therefore you are a good, kind man."

He ducked his head and looked up at her, his smile crooked, his eyebrows upturned making his blue eyes look bigger. "I was a bit of an ass wasn't I?"

"I was the same when my fiancé left me."

Steve's jaw dropped. "Was he blind or just plain stupid?"

"He said he wanted someone more delicate when he heard I was one of the few women who trained in combat at the King's Academy."

"I think it's swell."

"Does that mean 'good'?" She asked.

"Yeah, it does."

She noticed herself getting drowsier by the moment.

"Do you have a nickname, Margaret?" Steve asked. "Your given name seems a bit too formal sometimes."

"Well…" she thought for a moment. "In school they called me Peggy."

"Hm… I like it," he said. "It suits you."

"You could call me that if you want to."

"Really?"

She nodded.

"Okay then, Peggy."

The name sounded wonderful coming from him.

Unfortunately, she let out a wide yawn. She didn't want the night to be over.

Steve followed. "Don't yawn, you're making me tired too."

"Then, perhaps it's time to retire," she said.

"Right," he agreed then paused as another thought came to him. "Do you want to spend the day together tomorrow?"

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I would like that very much. Meet for breakfast at my place?"

"Sounds great."

Steve watched her go. When he was sure she wasn't coming back, he rushed to his room to change into an old t-shirt and paint splattered jeans.

He dug out a clean canvas and his oil paints. He smeared on the background and gathered up towels, paint water and drinking water (in labelled glasses respectfully). When he was sure that the background was dry, he drew out her silhouette on the part not painted. He lightly sketched out her features and began his work on the underpainting.

He worked carefully and delicately through most of the night making sure her face was complete. He wanted to capture that first. He made sure her jaw was squared, but not so much as to be masculine, the smooth curve of her red lips into a Mona Lisa smile. He worked until her brown eyes seemed real, staring at him softly while he worked on her undertones, layering and re-layering the paints.

He had just started working on her hair when he felt the brush tremble in his hands. He set the easel where she wouldn't see it and lovingly put his supplies away. He cleaned up any trace of paint, changed clothes, and went to bed, feeling happier than he had in a while.

 


	6. Saturday

Steve woke up the next morning feeling relaxed and happy. He wrote down some things he wanted to do for his and Peggy's day out. He got dressed and went upstairs to see if she was awake.

He knocked on the window and peered in. She appeared after a minute, still in her pajamas, and unlocked the window.

"Terribly sorry," she brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I didn't think we were leaving so early."

"Oh," he twisted his hands. "What time is it?"

"Um…" she looked at a nearby clock. "Seven thirty."

Oops.

"Actually, I do have a question." She stepped back and let him inside.

"Sure, what is it?"

She hoisted her suitcase onto the table and pulled out her money, bonds, and treasures. I think I should try accessing my American account. I was in the United States since I was seventeen. And I opened up my own bank account without my aunt's permission."

"Why?"

"She was a greedy old buzzard. The royalty that went to America were often broke and I couldn't have her pawning off my treasures. That's for me to decide."

"Makes sense."

His eyes grew wider and wider as she laid out extravagant pieces of jewelry, bonds worth a lot of money even back then, and gold and silver coins.

"I also have a crest that will let me access my account." She produced a black velvet bag. "I saw James produce an identification card to get into a club. He knew the man and so I was let in."

"I have a friend who can set you up with an I.D." he said. "She doesn't do it anymore, but I think she'll make an exception."

She agreed to that. The pair gathered up her bonds and put them into an opaque bag to take to the bank.

"I'm going to make breakfast while you get dressed." Steve squeezed her hand and went downstairs, he stuck his head back in. "Wear pants- er trousers."

She did as he asked. After applying her makeup, she put on the new dark wash jeans and a blue sweater on top of a white camisole. She found a scarf in Tony's closet and wrapped it around her neck. She tied back her hair with a ribbon and slid on a pair of Tony's sneakers. 

An hour later, they were on their way. She asked Steve what they were going to do, but he said he wanted to get her settled at the bank first before they went anywhere.

"You look great," he told her.

"Thank you, you look rather handsome yourself."

He shook his head. "You don't have to lie."

"It's not lying," she said. "It's looking at things another way. Just because you don't match up to what society wants does not mean you aren't desirable."

He found himself blushing a lot lately around her.

Despite the changes in the city, she easily remembered the way to her bank. She was certain her bank account might still be there. If not, she decided she would allow Steve to have the bonds in his account.

She trusted him.

Air, even colder than outside, rushed over them when they walked into the formidable building. It wasn't very crowded, so one of the clerks was able to see them right away.

He looked them up in down and quirked an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He led them to his desk and offered them water, which Steve accepted, but Margaret did not.

He sat down and placed his clasped hands on the desk. "So, what can I do to help you today?

"Yes, I would like to inquire about a bank account opened in 1873."

He blinked and chuckled "That's a very long time ago, Mrs…"

"Carter. Miss Carter." She looked at his name tag. Gideon.

Steve smiled. "You thought we were married?"

"Hush, darling, this isn't the point."

"Oh, right."

"Listen, Miss Carter," he got a condescending tone. "Accounts that old are typically frozen if there were no descendants and you would have to prove your were a descendant. That would imply an insignia of some sort."

"I believe this will suffice as long as the account has been properly managed," she said pulling out the insignia from its bag. She placed it on the desk.

He seemed at a loss for words. "Uh… let me get my manager, I don't think it will be there…"

"I'm fairly certain Alexander Hamilton knew what he was doing when he established a national bank. I- My ancestor did her research when using this bank, rather than setting up one in England before she left."

"Right." He scurried off with the insignia.

The manager burst in with a wide smile. "Oh, the Duchess of York was the only royal to use our bank, of course we kept it safe and sound for any descendants!" He shook Margaret's hand. "So, how can I be of assistance?"

"I'd like to reopen the account," she said.

"Okay, well, I'll believe you. I had to do some research on this to make sure it was correct and if you aren't the Duchess of York's spitting image then I'd eat my hat." He chuckled and reopened the account. "Would you like a card attached to the account?"

"Yes, please. I will be receiving payments very shortly and wish to have a place where I can deposit them," she said.

The manager opened up the account and allowed it a moment to adjust to inflation and accumulated interest. He choked a little when he saw the amount.

"Oh," she pulled out the bonds. "I would like to cash half of these in too if possible."

He took them from her and eyed them. "They look almost new!"

"I took care of them rather well." She replied simply.

His eyes bugged out when he saw the amount those were worth. He grinned and shook her hand. "Anything else I can do?"

"Yes, I'd like to attach him to my account," she nodded to Steve. "He shall receive a card and will get a monthly allowance. I will sign a contract so that should something happen to me, he will be the full benefactor."

"Really?" he asked, not expecting her to do that.

"Yes."

"Wow." He showed his I.D. and they both signed the contract. Margaret accepted the folder telling her all the benefits of her account and other accounts she could manage. She ended up having the majority placed in a savings account.

She was set up with a debit card with a mad amount of spending of $300 a day (until she could figure out a budget) and they were on their way.

It was mid-morning when they left and Steve finally revealed where they were going.

"If you're gonna live in Brooklyn, then you gotta experience Coney Island," he pulled out some change for the subway.

"It smells like piss," she commented. She gasped and latched onto Steve when there actually was a man peeing against the wall.

He gave the pair a dirty look, zipped up his pants, and went along his way.

Steve led her through a maze of stairs. A large tube roared by startling her. She thought the horseless carriages were monsters, but this took the cake. It was a train, but not any train she was familiar with.

A flood of people poured out of it. Steve grabbed her wrist and pushed against it. He collapsed against a chair and she sat down beside him.

It was crowded and it got warm very quickly. She pulled a lace fan out of her bag and used it.

Steve looked at her and snickered.

"What?"

"Nobody uses lace fans to cool themselves off anymore."

She snapped it shut and bopped him on the head with it. "I am very warm so hush."

He rubbed the spot even though it didn't hurt.

"So, Coney Island," she said. "I take it it's not just a neighborhood by the sea anymore?"

He shook his head. "Nope. It's great. Bucky and I had a lot of fun there when we were kids."

"Then, I look forward to it."

Soon enough their stop came. It now seemed that the flood was coming onto the train. Steve gripped her arm once more and pulled her out just as the door closed.

"I'm glad you came just in time," he said. "They're going to close it for the off season soon when the weather is too cold. It won't be too crowded, because tourist season is over as well."

"I see." She really didn't.

He continued to lead her along. Shortly after, she began to smell the sea and an array of tantalizing smells.

Steve paid for something and pocketed it as well as a roll of tickets. "For the rides," he explained.

She expected that when the weather was warm, it was very crowded.

"I was thinking the carousel might be best to start off with," he said.

She whipped her head around trying to take it all in. They passed booths that held food, booths that held toys, booths that held items that lit up and made noises.

She looked ahead and saw it. "Oh! I know what that is! In England it's called a roundabout."

"Cool, we're starting off with something familiar," he entered the tickets and got in line. They were allowed to enter with the next wave of people.

She hopped onto the nearest horse, excitement making her forget her manners. Steve hauled himself up on the one next to her.

She clicked her heels against the horse's haunches knowing very well it wouldn't move, but it made her think of her horse, which she missed terribly.

The ride started up with a whir and calliope music began to play. She laughed with delight as the horses "galloped" in a their circle. Children and adults alike sharing her glee.

The ride was over much sooner than she would've liked. She was even more disappointed when she found out rides were limited.

Her pouting lasted only a moment, before she was captivated by something else. They continued on several mild rides. Steve's heart condition alone would not permit him to do anything above. She was also a little concerned leaving their bags in cubbies, but after a while was not as worried when each time their satchels were just where they left them.

Margaret was thrilled nonetheless, for she had never experienced anything close to this. She now understood why Steve wanted her to wear jeans. With the way the wind blew any skirt would have become scandalous.

"Let's do this one," Steve pointed to one that held swings.

Swings. That was something she was familiar with. They paid the fair and found one that held two people.

"You be on the outside, I'll be on the inside," he said.

She agreed and they both sat on the red metal. Steve helped her buckle up and the safety bar was put in place and checked by the ride operator.

It started off slowly spinning almost like the carousel. A small jump and the ride began to pick up the pace, the center rising them up high in the air. The spun faster and faster until they were at a dizzying angle.

Margaret laughed with excitement. She followed a few of the others on the ride and raised her hands in the air. She imagined flying must feel like this, even though the weight of the safety bar pressed uncomfortably against her thighs.

When the ride began to slow down, she was a bit disappointed, but Steve promised they could ride it again before they left.

"So then, what shall we do next?"

He grinned. "Eat the most unhealthy food in the world. Fried food."

"Ah, like Scottish pan fried chicken?" She said. "I'd only had it once when my nanny made it for me. Mother was displeased but let it by, so long as it didn't happen again."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "There's a reason why we're going on the rides first. You have to try a corn dog, it's not made from dogs that's just the name. Uh… there is funnel cake, cotton candy, and… oh! You gotta try pizza. Afterwards we're playing games because you do not want to ride anything after eating. Also, you haven't had a pop yet."

"Pop?"

"You'll see."

When they reached the shops, delectable smells filled the air. She recognized a few from when they walked in.

She insisted on paying for the food, since Steve paid for them to come in. After loading their arms with the foods Steve recommended, they sat at a semi-sturdy table covered by an umbrella.

Margaret perused over the choices and chose the sausage wrapped up in bread. She put mustard on it and picked it up daintily.

There was no way to eat this daintily so she just bit straight into it. She couldn't describe the flavor. It was tasty yet… it wasn't. She couldn't stop eating it either. She wiped her mouth clean.

"Try this," Steve tore off a piece of what he called funnel cake.

She did. "That is the most amazing thing I've ever tasted!"

"Glad you like it."

"It's not exactly difficult to exceed British cooking," she said softly, almost as if she were telling a secret. "The British empire took over the world trading for spices and yet, they use none of them. It doesn't help that beer is added for flavor. I despise it."

"I can't drink alcohol," he shrugged. "No worries there."

They continued eating. The fizzy pop named Coca-Cola hurt her tongue when she first drank it, unfamiliar with carbonation, but she enjoyed the sweet caramel flavor. Her least favorite was the cotton candy, simply because it was sticky and got all over her hands and face.

Steve cracked up at that and helped her wash it off with wet wipes he kept in his pack.

Steve disposed of the trash they left behind and led her to the shaded area which held the contraptions that whistled, chimed, and thunked.

"Step right up! Win a teddy bear!" The employees not busy shouted out advertising the games in their station.

"Which game to you want to play first, Peggy?" Steve asked.

"How about that one?" She pointed to a hunting game. Tin animals flew around the "forest" and there were rifles attached to the booth.

"Sure," he shrugged.

"You going to win a prize for your girl?" The man said sounding slightly condescending.

"Yep," he said confidently. Inside, however, he was feeling pre-embarrassment. His astigmatism made aiming a little difficult.

The game began and Steve fired his shots, the laser missing any target. He hit a couple but not enough to win anything.

"Ooh, sorry about your luck buddy," the man said. "Maybe you should try the duck scoop."

"I think it's my turn," Margaret said, angry that the man was being rude to Steve, no matter how subtle it was. She paid and the ride started up. She aimed and hit all of the high score targets. Each one dinging and displaying her rising score.

The operator shrank and Steve's pride grew.

She took a deep breath and aimed for the fastest moving target. She fired and the whole board lit up.

"What prize do you want?" he asked, sounding defeated.

She looked at the giant plush animals. "Which one were you going to win for me?" she asked Steve.

"The blue unicorn," he said shyly. "You said you liked horses."

"I do like horses."

The game operator lowered it down with a hook and set it down on the counter rather than handing it to one of them.

Steve picked it up and led Margaret away. "There are other games."

"Hey," she stopped and made him face her. "I'm enjoying spending time with you. You don't have to impress me by— Oh, dear Lord!"

A loud siren wailing behind them interrupted her sentence. She held her hand to her chest her heart pounding.

"You'll get used to them," he assured.

They wandered around the arcade until two and Steve decided he wanted to move on.

So, they left the amusement park, hopped back on the subway, dropped their prizes off at the apartment and took Jarvis for a walk since the poor thing was cooped up all morning.

They decided to walk to the river. The sight made Margaret gasp.

"The world changed all around it, but Roebling's erection still stands."

Steve choked. "What?"

"It wasn't nearly completed in my time, but-"

"No." he interrupted. "Did you say erection?"

She was confused. "Yes, the bridge. Roebling's erection."

He bit back a laugh but his face ended up in a contortion where he might as well have laughed.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," he leaned against the rail and guffawed. When he finally caught his breath after a short coughing fit he answered. "Erection has a different meaning nowadays."

"What does it mean?"

He looked around and whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened. "Oh!" She made a face. "Oh."

"Yeah, I mean. You're not wrong it just sounds… dirty."

"I see."

"Come on, let's go, we can bring Jarvis with us."

"Where are we going?"

"Central Park," he smiled at her. "I thought it might be fun."

"It's still there?"

"Yeah, we gotta take the subway to Manhattan."

This time, though the same setting as before, it went a little bit easier. Margaret knew how to push through the crowd and she read the map on the walls of the subway to memorize their route.

She was truly enjoying her time with Steve. The feelings she felt for her ex-fiancé was nothing compared to what she felt for Steve.

She slid her hand into his and he squeezed it in return.

Central Park was bigger than she remembered. The trees towered above her now. The park was a sea of yellows, oranges, and reds. It was very calming, the sounds of the city growing muffled the farther into the park they went.

The afternoon was spent there just with them talking about themselves and their lives.

"Honestly, I was really skeptical about you being from 1876," Steve admitted.

"I don't blame you," she said. "I find myself rather flabbergasted that I am in the year 2000. I feel like I am in a dream and the longer I am here, the more I don't want to wake up."

"Screw the elevators," he said. "If Tony tries to send you back, I'm not letting him. He'll have to fight me."

Overwhelmed with emotion, she pulled him in and kissed him full on the lips.

Uncertain with himself, he slowly rested his hands on her waist.

She broke it first and rested her forehead against his. "I've never done this before."

"Me neither," he said out of breath. "I don't think I've ever fallen for someone this fast."

She wanted to ask about Tony. She wasn't going to. She wasn't going to compare anything to his previous relationship. She was just going to focus on what was theirs.

"Why don't we sit down?" she suggested.

He agreed to that. "Mind if I draw?"

"Not at all as long as I can watch."

He cleared his throat and shifted nervously, which did not go unnoticed by her.

"Unless, you don't want me to." 

"No, I just haven't had anybody watch me draw since high school," he sat down and pulled out his sketchbook and pencil.

"Come to think of it," she sat beside him. "I don't know how old you are."

"Oh, uh, I just turned twenty-eight."

"I'm twenty-one."

"What?" he adjusted his hearing aid.

"Twenty-one," she said a bit more clearly.

He heard right. "I didn't realize you were seven years younger than me."

"Technically, I am…" She counted off the top of her head. "One hundred and forty five… wait.. Minus twenty-eight.. One hundred and seventeen years your senior."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

The hour before dusk was spent in comfortable silence. Rather than watching him draw, Steve just showed her his progress as he went along. For the last twenty minutes he wouldn't show her anything.

"Shall we eat?" She asked. 

He slapped his sketchbook shut. "Food? Right, there's a uh… salad place by the apartment. I have to eat light for dinner, so I don't get indigestion, because that isn't exactly attractive."

"Steven," she rested her hand on his knee. "It's fine."

"Right."

They took a taxi, which Margaret insisted on paying for, compromising that Steve could buy them dinner.

The restaurant was more of a bistro. They only sold soups, salads, and sandwiches and, on top of that, had a different assortment each day. Luckily for them, they allowed dogs inside. The person behind the counter happily brought out water and some stale bread for the pooch.

After placing their orders, they sat at a table by the window and watched the nightlife start up. People still rushing to get to where they needed to be.

For the first time all day, Steve's cellphone rang. He apologized to her and answered.

"Hello?" He scowled. "What do you want Tony?"

…

"She's not a child, she's been just fine." he raised his voice.

…

"Peggy can make her own choices. You don't get to decide that."

…

He flushed and set his jaw. "Why do you care? You know what? I think I'm going to start looking for a new apartment."

He snapped his phone shut and slumped against the table.

"Is he truly that much of an ass?" she asked.

"No," his voice was muffled. "It's a front. He has a lot of problems and needs therapy for it. He's not a true asshole like Gilmore."

Their food arrived at that moment as well as a dessert item they didn't order.

"On the house," the woman said sympathetically.

"Thanks."

They ate in awkward silence, well, she ate. Steve just poked at his food. Margaret was never happier that meals didn't last hours anymore.

"What did he say that made you so angry?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

Steve sighed and gave up on his food. "He implied that… we were…" he made a few vague hand gestures that didn't say anything in any language.

"Intimate." She said.

He nodded. "Yeah. I wouldn't make a pass on you. Not that I wouldn't want to it's just I have a lot of insecurities. Not about… performance or…." he groaned and put his face in his hands. "Peggy, can we just leave now?"

"Of course."

Having already paid for their meal, they went ahead and walked the rest of the way to the apartment.

The temperature dropped quickly once the sun went down and both Margaret and Steve were shivering.

"I'll be down in a moment," she said, intending to give Jarvis his dinner as well as change into more comfortable attire.

"It's fine," he said, still a bit sullen. "Take your time."

She kissed his temple, which seemed to cheer him up a bit, and headed up to Tony's apartment.

Jarvis was thrilled when he got his dinner. Margaret set up the gate, so the little thing couldn't wreak havoc.

She thought about what Steve said, about what Tony said. Time be damned, if she only had a week to experience a lifetime with Steve? So be it.

Feeling confident, she climbed down the fire escape to go see him.


	7. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Peggy have girl time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for this very choppy chapter. I was going to post it, but forgot that I hadn't finished it and then I forgot about it again. I had the final chapters already done, but this one just wouldn't come.

Warm sunlight passed through a crack in the red curtains that hung in Steve's room. Luckily, it did not disturb the sleeping couple tangled up in the full-sized bed.

Steve curled up into Peggy's warmth, his head tucked under her chin and his arm draped across her chest. She, in turn, had one arm wrapped around Steve while the other rested against her forehead.

The alarm clock on the nightstand began to beep, disturbing them.

"Why?" Peggy muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

He sighed and pushed himself up. "Morning pills."

She hummed, her eyes still clamped shut. He swallowed the medication from his pill case and downed them with a bottle of water he kept on his bedside.

"Do you need to get up and eat?" she murmured.

"No, I'll be okay for an hour."

"Good. Come back here."

He looked at her and grinned, the feelings and memories from last night rushing back.

She accepted him scars and all without any hesitation and, of course, she was perfect in every way to him.

Much more confident, he kissed her soundly running his hands up her sides. Sex seemed to be a great way to start a weekend morning. It was nice to have that opportunity back.

Bucky burst into the room just when Steve was adding another hickey on Peggy's neck. "Steve, Margaret's gooonnAGH!"

Steve and Peggy screamed in surprise. Steve pulled up the sheet to cover them up better.

"Come on, man!" he sat up making sure Peggy was still covered.

Bucky looked embarrassed. "I was looking for Margaret to tell her about how things with Natasha went and I saw Tony and I thought… oh God, Steve!" He shielded his face with his arm trying not to notice.

"Bucky!" Steve covered himself better turning red from his ears to his chest.

"Sorry!" The brunet slammed the door shut on his way out.

Steve slumped over and pressed his palms to his eyes. Peggy sat up and rested her cheek against his back.

"I guess Tony is back," she said softly. "My things are up there."

He faltered. "I was going to invite you to the merger event. I have to go either way, but I might make a speech if I get the promotion. I'd like to have you there."

"I will," she vowed. "I will not allow anything to make me miss it."

"Huh?" He pulled out his hearing aids and swore. "The batteries are dead…"

Mood ruined, Steve changed out his batteries while Peggy dressed in her clothes from last night. She stood around feeling a little awkward.

"I'm sorry, I'm too small to loan you anything," he said as he dressed himself in fresh clothes. "I have a spare toothbrush though."

He rushed to the bathroom and dug around in his drawers. He tore off the wrapper, when he found it and passed it to her. While she brushed her teeth, he did a quick cleanup of his room, mortified that it was in such a disorganized state.

He used the bathroom after her and they walked out of the room together, still in a disheveled state.

Steve froze when he saw Tony standing out there, balanced on crutches, staring at the half-finished oil painting.

"He still had a key," Bucky said looking more than a bit upset.

"I can't send her back yet," Tony looked over at Steve. "The portal doesn't open until Tuesday. Have your fun until then, but she has to go back to her own time."

Steve was ready to argue, but Tony held up a bandaged hand.

"Thank you for taking care of Jarvis, my neighbor Bruce agreed to walk him until I get better, and I will see you Tuesday."

"Her things will be on the landing after breakfast," he added as an afterthought.

"What a shame," the redheaded woman from the other night entered from Bucky's bedroom. "I already agreed to set her up as a dual citizen from England."

"Hey, Nat," Steve's voice was dull.

"Steve, unless he can get the King's Army here, I don't see any way for me to go back."

"It's not just that," Steve grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet and pulled a clean set of sheets from the hall closet. "I'm going back to bed."

Peggy hugged herself, not sure how to feel about this turn of events. She had, guiltily, hoped Tony would have stayed in the hospital until after Tuesday had passed. She didn't want a week, she wanted forever.

First Emotion she could pinpoint? hurt. She knew it had only been less than a month when Steve and Tony broke up, but the way Steve reacted, shutting down when confronted, was a bit of a shock to the system.

Doubt followed. The good feelings towards her only started when Steve needed her for his job. Was he going to toss her aside after Monday?

"Hey," Bucky said warningly. "Don't doubt him. He's the most honest person I know. He's also insecure, so him being intimate with you? That's a huge step."

Her heart knew what he was saying was true, but her mind was nagging and niggling, trying to seep every doubt and fear to every corner of her mind. She slowly sat down on the couch trying to process all of this.

Her ears perked up when Bucky and Natasha started whispering to each other, after gathering her things from the landing.

"By the end of today, someone is going to end up hurting," Bucky said. "It's going to be a shit storm when Steve is ready to fight."

"Margaret's never seen them together, has she?"

"No."

"Maybe she should stay with me for today," Natasha decided. "She shouldn't be in the middle of all of this."

"Okay," Peggy said, loud enough for them to hear. "I'll go with Natasha."

The redhead nodded. "Come on. We'll do girl time." She looped her arm with the Victorian woman's and led the way out of the apartment.

"Girl time?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun." Her uncertainty betrayed the heaviness of the situation.

The trip to Natasha's apartment wasn't very long, even with the numerous stops the subway had taken. Peggy learned what a "straight shot" meant in travel terms.

Natasha lived in a fairly nice side of town with a little park and quaint boutiques and shops. The redhead entered a door beside a dance studio with the name Natasha's Dance Studio and Supplies in white cursive pasted on the glass. A pink silhouette of a ballerina balanced on the end.

The stairway leading to the apartment above the studio was plain with simple wooden steps and chipped paint on the walls. The redhead unlocked a white door at the top of the stairs and entered into an apartment that did not match the cold leather the woman donned.

In fact, it reminded Peggy of a dollhouse her cousin had as a child. Everything was a crisp, clean white with pale pink trimmings. Decorative pillows were perched neatly on the couch and window seats, a dark brown book case held an assortment of ballerina knick-knacks along side the books.

The walls were decorated with silver framed pictures of all sorts.

Some, Peggy recognized, as Steve's drawings. Others were pictures of the friendship group she met the other day, but the majority was pictures of groups of little girls in young women in pink and black tutus. Natasha was standing beside them in a slim black dress and the bottom would be labelled by age group and year.

"I had not expected this," Peggy stated. "I don't know much about this modern day, but you do seem more… oh, how do I put this? Leather than lace."

Natasha snorted and smiled. "If I'm being honest, it's not my style either. I have a small program for orphans at my studio and every so often I invite them up here for a good meal and a movie. If I had my style, it might scare them off.

"Plus," she added with a smirk. "The gifts I get from my summer program girls would look out of place in a black and red room."

Peggy smiled and set her suitcase off to the side. "So, how does girl time work?"

Natasha placed a finger on her chin. "Well, there are two ways. The first way: we sit here and braid each others hair while we eat ice cream, watch movies, and talk about boys. The second way: We go try some new food, go to the shooting range, and talk about boys."

"Both of those sound awfully tempting," Peggy said. "However, I think the second option sounds much more fun. Are we doing archery or guns?"

"Why don't we do archery? Guns have changed a lot since your time."

They left the apartment and set on their way, when a thought occurred to Peggy. "Do you truly believe I am from the past? I still have problems believing I am in the future."

The woman paused. "I'll let you in on a secret. I'm from the past too."

Peggy's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yep. I was born in Russia during the late twenties. All I remember was training for a series of female agents. When I was twelve, I… I tried to end it by jumping off a bridge. I ended up in Russia, but it was different. A man named Phil was there for business and he found me, lost and confused. He adopted me and brought me with him to America. The rest is my business."

Peggy let this news sink in. "I guess it's not uncommon is it?"

"No. The difference is that it's being studied now."

"Hm. I guess it's nice not being the only one."

Feeling more comfortable around each other, they began comparing how things had changed from their times and now. They both found that men in general had not changed, save for the few exceptions like Steve, Bucky, and (some of the time) Scott.

When they made it to the indoor archery range they were fitted for their bows and Peggy was given a run down of how things worked by a training video. Only six arrows at a time and everyone in the row had to be done before you could retrieve your arrows.

The archery range was cold and open. The walls lined with some sort of black blocks and sections were separated to keep groups small. Natasha pinned two targets to the wall before setting up her station.

"Did a lot of archery?" Natasha asked teasingly when Peggy hit close to the bulls eye.

"Of course. Father insisted."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes." Peggy pulled back the string and fired another arrow. Her aim wasn't perfect (from lack of practice), but she at least had her arrows grouped together. "It wasn't as if he didn't have a son to spar with and teach things to. I was a very stubborn child. At first, he decided to let me join in hoping that I would find it too hard and then go back to needle point, but when I showed skill he quickly changed his mind and encouraged me to do more."

"Sounds like a man ahead of his time," Natasha commented.

The two women made their way to the wall and started pulling their arrows out of the targets. "Yes, he and my brother died in a carriage accident. That was also around the time my fiancé left me." A sad look crossed her face. "I grew so depressed and angry that I was sent to America to have my Aunt straighten me out."

"That's rough."

She nodded. "But I can be my own person here. Plus, I quite adore Steve. He's not like other men. I just hope…"

"Yeah. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

After a good two hours of archery, Natasha decided to be a little mean and introduce Peggy to sushi.

"You mean to tell me, that this is raw fish and seaweed?" The brunette gaped.

"Oh, yeah. It's slimy yet satisfying."

"I don't know if I can…"

"I thought you wanted to try new things!"

"I have to draw the line somewhere!" she argued.

"Okay, okay," Natasha laughed. "We'll do something less gross. How about I pick up pizza?"

"What is pizza?"

"Oh, you're gonna love it!"

-  
The two women ended up having the first example of girl time as well. Natasha put on Pride and Prejudice, much to Peggy's delight. They braided their hair back and enjoyed pizza.

"I'm glad we had this time together," Peggy said with a smile. "I hope we do this again."

"Me too. I could always use another gal pal to go shooting with."

Natasha's home phone rang, startling Peggy. She reached over and answered. "Natasha's Dance Studio and Supplies how can I help you?" She smiled. "Hey Bucky. What's the word? Oh… I see… what do you mean she can't come back? I— ohhh… Fine. I'll tell her." She hung up and sighed.

"I can't go back?"

"No. I'm sorry."

Peggy felt her throat tighten. Feeling a little lost, she stood up and out of habit made a curtsy. "I think I will go to bed now. Excuse me."

"Peggy. It's not as bad as you think."

"I'm sure it isn't," she replied crisply. "But I can't help but feel what I feel. Good night."


	8. Monday

Peggy was only truly asleep for an hour when the alarm Natasha set for her began to blare. She slammed her hand against the top of the clock, repeatedly, until it quieted and she sighed when the awful sound ceased. She sat up, wiping her salt-stained cheeks, pondering how she was going to face Steve.

She made a disgusted sound. She left home with the idea that she wasn't going to marry some American and, instead, be her own independent woman, with a job and everything. Yet, here she was, pining over a man, whom she'd known for not even a week.

She fell in love with someone who wasn't even over his previous love and it all turned into a giant mess.

A part of her wanted to snub the commercial shoot, but she knew she couldn't do that to Steve. He wanted the promotion more than anything.

She had money and she was going to receive payments for the commercial.

Natasha entered the room already dressed in jeans, a striped shirt, and a brown jacket. "Hey, want some breakfast?"

She shook her head. "Only if it's light. The corset hurts more with a full stomach."

"Need me to help you into your costume?"

"I think I'll dress at the studio. The filming starts at ten and I planned on being there in an hour. Steve… he said that they were going to do hair and makeup on me and the other man they're filming."

"Okay, How about we eat breakfast out? You can try a cappuccino and a parfait. That's light and you'll get energy from the coffee."

"Thank you for your kindness, Natasha." Peggy smiled, grateful that the woman was there and willing to help.

Natasha shrugged and leaned against the counter. "You're nice. You shouldn't get caught up in their drama."

"Why do I feel so upset with him?"

"Probably because you two fadoodled and then you were kicked out whenever the ex came back around."

"Ah, right," Natasha's blunt explanation did not make her feel any better or any less angry.

"Get ready in my room. I'm good to go whenever you are."

"Okay." She went to the bathroom first. It was cleaner than any of the other bathrooms she'd been in, it was also rather feminine. The appliances were white, the sink had a cold colored faucet, and the counter, towels, and bathmat were pink.

She didn't notice any of this last night when she used the shower.

She made quick work of cleaning up her face and brushing her hair out and dressed in one of the outfits she bought. This one was black trousers, a blue blouse, and a jacket.

She pulled on her boots and cringed at how out of place they looked. She really needed a more casual set.

A knock at the door startled her.

"You ready, Peggy?"

Uncomfortable, she gathered her things in the garment bag left out for her and left the room. "I'm ready."

Natasha rested a hand on her shoulder. "I only used the nickname because it rhymed. How about Meg?"

"Are nicknames common?" She asked. "I thought they were used for familial and intimate reasons."

"Nah," Natasha grabbed her keys and led Peggy out. "Bye Sylvie, be good."

The Russian blue meowed from her castle in the sun.

She continued her explanation to Peggy on their way out to her car. "America likes to use first names and nicknames for everyone except teachers and doctors. Nicknames now are just a thing, mostly something friends use. Steve calls me Nat and Bucky calls me Tasha.

"So, for you, you have the opportunities of Marge, Meg, Peg, and Peggy. I have a feeling Steve uses Peggy for you. I'm going to go with Meg."

Peggy was okay with that. Especially, if it meant she was gaining friends. She was going to need them if she was going to figure out this future.

Once they were safely buckled up in the car, Natasha drove off to a coffee shop. Peggy was surprised when they didn't go inside, instead Natasha drove around the building and spoke into what looked like the answering machine in Tony's house.

"One Cappuccino, one black coffee, and two blueberry parfaits," she called out. The person on the other end said something indistinguishable. "Thank you."

"What did they say?"

"I dunno," she shrugged and pulled her wallet out of her bag. She paid for the food and handed Peggy her breakfast. "Eat up."

"Thank you."

The Cappuccino was delicious and so was the parfait. The tartness of the fruit pairing wonderfully with the smooth coffee.

Much too soon, they arrived at the studio from Thursday. She noticed Thor waiting out front, which meant Steve hadn't arrived yet.

"I'm going to go park," Natasha said. "You go inside."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright."

She looked both ways before getting out of the car and then grabbed the garment bag from the back seat. She gathered her confidence and purposefully walked into the building.

"Good morning, Margaret," the friendly giant said.

"Good morning, Thor," she nodded courteously and went ahead to the studio.

A stage hand directed her to what he called the "green room" where she would get ready.

A pretty, almost elfish, woman with bright pink hair and a handsome dark-skinned man, both clad in black shirts and pants approached her.

"Hi, I'm Tiffany, I'll be helping you into your outfit," she said perkily.

"I'm Derek," the man said. "I'll be doing your hair and makeup. You have such gorgeous curls, perfect for that time period. I'll be working on you first."

"Margaret." A surprised man's voice said.

She whirled around and lo and behold, it was Leopold. He did not look like himself, dressed in modern attire, carrying a garment bag over his shoulder.

"Leopold?" she narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I agreed to sell margarine," he replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Selling bread."

"I see," he bowed. "I will not keep you."

Another woman came up. "Mr. Duke, come with me, I'm Daisy, I'll be doing your hair and makeup."

Peggy blinked. Derek led her to a chair that sat in front of a mirror surrounded by white lights.

"I'll be doing your hair first," Derek said picking up a brush.

"Do what you need to do," she replied.  
-  
Steve rushed into the building, feeling like crap.

"Mr. Rogers," Thor gasped. "Did you get into a fight with an alley cat?"

He really was a sight. His fight with Tony started off with them arguing about Peggy and whether or not she'll go home. Unfortunately, it didn't end there. Everything from the past three years rose up from the pit and reared its ugly head.

Soon enough they got physical. With Tony's injured state, it made the fight more fair for Steve. Bucky got caught in the middle and it got even messier from there.

In the end, Steve had a black eye, a split lip, and a limp. He was pretty sure he also had a few bruised ribs and a sprained wrist as well. There was no way he was going to tell everyone he got into a fight with his ex-boyfriend over a woman from the past that he wanted to be his girlfriend.

Right now, all he could hope was that Peggy would show up. Bucky told him that she was upset about having to leave.

"Is Peggy here?" he asked Thor.

"Who?"

"Margaret," he stressed.

"Yes, she is getting ready right now," he replied.

"Good," he headed to the green room to see Peggy before the shoot. "Go ahead and take a long breakfast. I'll see you when the shoot is over."

"Thank you," Thor smiled and pulled out his phone.

He bumped into a blond woman in a large black over coat on her way out of the stage.

"Oh, sorry," Kate did a double-take. "Steve? Oh, my God. What happened to you?"

"I got into a fight with Tony," he admitted. He'd been on double dates with her and her ex-boyfriend Stuart, they hung out a couple of times to complain about their boyfriends but other than that, they were just co-workers. "I'm going to tell everyone I got hit by a car, though."

She nodded and put a finger to her lips. "I won't tell. We should get up there. They're about to start filming."

He really wanted to see her… "Okay." He gave in and followed Kate upstairs where they could watch the filming from above without being in the way.

The stage was set in a traditional Victorian style

"There he is," she pointed to the tall, dark haired man coming on stage. "That's Leopold."

Steve watched the beautiful man read over the script and take his seat on the wooden chair with olive colored cushions.

"Hey, how about we see both him and the lady for the first one? Set the tone for the individual sets."

Peggy walked on set and sat in the chair opposite Leopold. She was wearing the scarlet dress from when she first arrived and her long curls were done up in an elaborate style clipped with a floral shaped metal clip, the excess trailing down her shoulder. She looked beautiful.

"That's Peggy," Steve mentioned to Kate.

"She's pretty."

"So's Leopold."

"Hey," she said teasingly. "He's mine."

Steve chuckled. "I figured."

"And… Action!" the director said.

A stage hand clicked the scene/take indicator and the actor playing the butler walked on with the Farmer's Bounty blueberry flavored gluten-free scone and the brand's margarine on pretty china plate's.

"Okay," the director said. "This is a follow up commercial to your individuals, so I want you both to act like you're in a happy conversation, like a married couple. When Millard brings the scones, you both look delighted, give each other a knowing look and go to eat the scones. You don't have to eat them this time. It's just to show that you should buy the butter with the bread. Just figure out your conversation, let us know when you're ready, and we'll start filming."

Steve couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. They made the perfect Victorian couple and Leopold seemed to be everything he wasn't appearance wise.

"We're ready," Peggy said taking a place just off set. "We came up with a few different scenarios, but this is our favorite."

"Alright." The scene/take thing was clacked. "Action!"

Peggy walked on and pecked Leopold on the cheek while he was pouring tea. "Hello darling."

"Ah," Leopold smiled. "Just in back for tea time. How was your afternoon ride?"

"Left me absolutely famished," she sat down in her chair.

"You're in luck." The butler came on and set down the two scones. "Farmer's Bounty bread and butter allows us to enjoy our afternoon tea, without any worry for our health."

"Brilliant."

They smiled at each other and picked up their scones.

"Cut!" The director clapped his hands. "Awesome. We'll try a few takes of that after you two do your sets, just in case we need to try anything."

"Huh."

Steve looked at Kate. "What?"

"It's almost like they know each other," she said thoughtfully.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked back down at them. "Huh."

"Let's go with Mr. Duke first," the director said.

Steve watched Margaret go off set, when she looked up, he quickly hid behind Kate and then behind the table holding coffee and snacks.

"Why are you hiding?" Kate whispered to him while she poured herself another cup. She put two and two together and gasped silently. "Ohh…"

Before she could say anything, Leopold started a fuss.

"This product tastes like raw sewage on top of sawdust, how is this not my concern?" He stood up abruptly.

"Look, buddy, it's a paycheck," the director said wearily.

The client started justifying the product, while the director argued about morals.

"This is an outrage!" Leopold slapped down the script and stormed out.

"Ah, shit," Kate ran out after Leopold.

Steve stopped breathing when he saw Peggy pick up the forgotten scone and bite into it. She made a face and set it down. When she looked up this time, he didn't hide. He couldn't make eye contact either.

"I don't see what the fuss is all about," she said, causing Steve to look up. "Saddle soap and sawdust, that's half of all British food."

"Okay," the director sighed. "We're going to do your shoots then. Tiffany! Grab the spit bucket."

"The what?" Peggy asked unsure if she should be offended or worried.

"It's so that you don't have to keep eating the food," the bald-headed man explained. "Actors can get sick from that."

"I see," she sat down in her place.

"Okay, action!"

She daintily sipped her tea when the butler came by with the scone, he used an upper crust accent. "Your scone, your grace."

"Ah, thank you Millard," she said her voice soft and elegant. She laid her napkin in her lap. "You brought Farmer's Bounty?"

"Of course," the man said, setting the bag of bread down on the table, label out.

Peggy turned to the camera. "Warm, oven-baked bread. Is there anything more comforting? I say there is. And perhaps you'll agree, when you sample gluten-free, spelt Farmer's Bounty. With the genuine essence of whole white bread in every bite. With every mouthful of Farmer's Bounty you get the luxurious taste of bread, without adding to the luxury of your waistline. Farmer's Bounty."

She ate the plain bread.

"Cut!"

She spat into the bucket presented.

She did take after take until Kate brought Leopold back. He begrudgingly went on with the commercial, but it was obvious he and Kate were upset with each other now.

"Hey."

Steve jumped and saw Natasha beside him. "How did you get in?"

"I have my ways."

"Right, right," he nodded. "Special Ops."

"You look like shit," she noted.

"I feel like shit."

"Meg is pissed that she was kicked out yesterday."

"I want to talk to her about it after the shoot," he sighed. "At least explain myself."

"She has to stay with me until Wednesday."

"I know."

"Maybe you should wait until then to make up."

"No. I have to talk to her today. I need to talk to her."

"Call her tomorrow on my landline," Natasha compromised. "Maybe she'll still come to the event."

Steve hardly watched Leopold. His gaze was focused on Peggy as she stood on the side of the set. She wasn't looking too well, her breathing was shallow. He straightened up. She was turning blue.

"Peggy!" he yelled out.

"Cut!" the director screamed and gave Steve a dirty look, then gave a startled yelp when Peggy fell over with a loud thud.

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

"Is she wearing a corset?" Leopold asked calmly almost annoyed.

"Yeah?" Tiffany said, panicking. "Why?"

"It's laced too tightly," he stood up. "No lady's waist is that tiny in real life."

"Fuck!" Tiffany made quick work of freeing Peggy while Derek set up some blinders to give her privacy.

Steve reached the spot just when he heard a loud gasp. Two on set emergency personnel came over with a cot to take her away.

With Tiffany sobbing and begging for forgiveness and everyone gathering around simply because people do that in an emergency situation, Steve couldn't get close. He ran around to the side. They caught a glimpse each other just before everyone was told to back off and get back to work.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to see her no matter what he stepped back and slouched over. His phone rang and he answered it forcing himself to sound neutral rather than upset.

"Okay, I'll be right in," he said. Time to go to work. He called Thor to meet him in the lobby with a salad for lunch.

For the rest of the day, his thoughts were consumed with Peggy.

 

 

 


	9. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday again? No problem

Steve went up to see Tony before he left for work. Just when he got there, he saw Tony's neighbor, Bruce, leaving to take Jarvis for a walk. He decided he was going to be civil. He shouldered the garment bag that held his suit for the merger event.

"Maybe you should come back later," Bruce said tentatively.

"I only have one thing to say to him," Steve promised.

Bruce lingered a moment before heading out, Jarvis trailing happily behind him.

He took a deep breath and entered the apartment. Tony was sprawled out on his couch, glaring at the television like it insulted his mother. He didn't look much different after his fight with Steve. Maybe just a few more bruises on his face.

"Hey," Steve said softly.

"What do you want?" his voice was flat.

"I just want to let you know that I'm looking for a new apartment. I'm not going to make you move," he set Tony's apartment key on the coffee table. "If I the promotion then I'll be out within a couple of months."

"If Margaret shows up, I'm still going to convince her to go home," he said.

"Okay," Steve shrugged. "I probably wrecked it with her anyway. I'm going to go to work."

Despite how much he pretended not to care, he was dying inside. He wished everything would be stable for once in his life, but nothing ever was. Not even his heartbeat could be constant.

He just wanted to be ok. His future would be determined by the end of the night. He pulled out his phone, considering to go ahead and call Peggy, but decided otherwise. Maybe once he found out if he got the promotion or not.

Once at work, he found that he couldn't focus on anything. The Farmer's Bounty was over, he had more things to worry about: Hasbro, the cereal thing, and he was pretty sure there was a car insurance commercial coming up.

His paperwork blurred together and his phone conversations were almost like he wasn't wearing his hearing aids. He ended up giving Thor information and had him answer and handle the calls.

It was late into the afternoon when Gilmore rudely came into his office, without even knocking. "I got the promotion and me and J.J. are going work abroad. Kate got the Vice President position." he smirked. "Maybe next promotion."

Crushed, Steve waited until Gilmore left before closing all of his blinds, shutting the office door, and slumped into his chair. He buried his face in his hands and internally screamed. He was going to take it with quiet dignity tonight at the event, for sure, but he figured Wednesday he could pretend to be too sick to come in. They'd believe him, he barely misses unless he's been hospitalized.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he picked up the phone and dialed Natasha's home phone. It rang until it went to voicemail.

This is Natasha Romanoff. If you're selling something, take me off your call list.

He took a deep shuddering breath after the beep. "Hey Peggy, I hope you're there. I didn't get the job… I'm still going to the merger event, I hope you'll still come. I made sure your name was added to the list. If not, then it's fine. I miss you. I know I saw you yesterday, but we didn't even get to talk. I hope you're okay. I don't have anything else to say until we see each other. Bye."

He hung up and spent the rest of the afternoon in his darkened office.

Thor alerted him when it was time to go. He dressed in his office, his hands shook so badly that Thor had to do his tie for him.

"You look nice," Thor commented.

"You don't have to lie," Steve shrugged and cleaned his glasses. "Nobody is going to notice me anyway."

"Good luck at the event anyway, maybe something good will happen."

"Thor, always the optimist," Steve chuckled. "Are you going out with Jane tonight?"

"Aye, she's very excited."

Steve unthinkingly pressed the elevator button and stepped inside. "See you Thursday, I'm taking tomorrow off."

"Good idea."

The doors closed and Steve blinked in surprise and looked around. Tony said the elevators would come back when she went home. He sucked in a deep breath and stared at his reflection in the elevator doors until his vision blurred.

The taxi drive to the building holding the event passed by in a blur. It was nighttime when he made it, he got there at the same time as Kate, she seemed a bit stupefied, probably because of the promotion.

"Hey," he said when he approached her. She blinked and looked at him. "Congrats on the promotion."

"Thanks," she gave him a small smile. They entered together, but went their separate ways after that.

Just as he predicted, he was totally ignored. It felt like every middle school and high school event he'd ever been to. He'd stand just outside the circle of conversation listening in. Any input was either ignored or gained him a look that said why-are-you-even-here? It hurt being shrugged off like that.

He wished that Bucky was there with him. He decided to head over to his dinner table when he was bowled over by Stuart and Kate's brother Charlie.

He slammed into the wall and rubbed his shoulder. What were they doing here? He shrugged it off and sat at his table. He wished he could take pain medicine, but he didn't have any in his pill case.

He wished this night would be over.

He wished Peggy was here. He glanced at the empty seat next to him. He noticed the couples at the table glancing at him and muttering to each other.

J.J. got up on stage and started his speech. Steve couldn't really hear though. J.J. tended to run his words together. All Steve could make out was Kate's name.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Was Kate not showing up? A minute later she ran in, tripping on a bunch in the carpet.

"Kate McCay!" J.J. said, clapping.

She stood at the podium and hesitated. She stared at her notecards and looked up at the audience. She then went on about "wanting things".

Steve looked around to see if anyone else was confused by her speech or if it was just him. He felt a surge of relief when everyone tilted their heads and scrunched their eyebrows.

"I have to go," Kate flew off the stage and out the door bumping into another woman wearing a sky blue evening gown.

J.J. stood there unsure of what to do since Kate basically turned down the job. "Uhh… one minute please."

"Hello," a warm voice whispered in Steve's ear. "Sorry I'm late, I didn't realize the event was at the Duke of Albany's house."

He started and looked up at Peggy with wide eyes. She frowned and sat down.

"What happened to you?" she pressed a cool hand to his cheek.

"I'll explain later," he promised. He noticed that the people at the table were staring at him incredulously.

"Um…" J.J. coughed and tapped the microphone. "Is there a Steve Rogers in the house? Congratulations, you are the new Senior Vice President."

"Huh?" He wasn't sure if he heard correctly.

Peggy gently shook his shoulder. "Steve, that's you."

Shocked, he stood up. Peggy pecked him on the cheek and nudged him to the stage. He carefully made his way up the steps, his body aching and creaking, and set himself up at the mic.

"Wow," he chuckled. "I wasn't expecting this. I don't think anyone was. I don't think even Kate expected to leave like she did. Wherever she went, I hope it's what she wanted and that it will bring her happiness.

"I started off at this company as a graphic artist for cereal boxes and billboard advertisements. As I will repeat what Kate said, "We bring people what they want." We bring people what they want, even if they don't realize it. It's not just about the client. It's about the consumer. It's about the people who create our products. I don't want to be the person that is the people pleaser. I want to be the person that puts the best possible product out there and that means leading a team of people, who work just as hard on the minute details that create our advertisements. I hope I can live up to the expectations set ahead of me.

"Thank you." He exited the stage and went back to his seat.

"Did you write that?" one person asked.

He flushed. "It just came off the top of my head."

"Very lovely," Peggy said, taking his hand. "A bit halting at the middle, but a wonderful ending."

The evening went on. After dinner, some people danced or chatted with the other guests. Steve just rested his head on Peggy's shoulder, enjoying her company.

"I thought you went back to 1876," he murmured.

"Of course not," she kissed his temple. "I did see Tony, yes. As it would turn out, Duke Leopold was the inventor of the elevator and it was he who stopped the machines. I was meant to come forward and that woman, Kate, was meant to go back. It only makes sense to trade a person for a person."

Steve grinned. "I guess things turned out okay, then."

"Yes, they did indeed."

"I thought you said you weren't sleeping with her," Gilmore accused, turning a few heads.

"Excuse me?" Steve scowled. While he did sleep with Peggy, that wasn't how he found her for the job.

"Why'd you lie about sacking with a hot babe like her?" It was obvious by this point that the guy had been drinking.

"Because, it's none of your business," Steve snapped.

Gilmore scoffed and leaned in a little too close to Peggy. "Why don't you ditch this guy? I can show you a few more moves than wheezing and a lot more than… that." He gestured to all of Steve, then rested that hand on her thigh.

Peggy smiled sweetly. "You want to show me a few moves?" she asked in a honeyed voice.

He looked a little too far south of her chin. "Yeah…"

"Alright right, step back please." She stood up when he did. "I want to show you my favorite move."

A small crowd had gathered.

"What's that going to be?" he smirked.

Like lightning, Peggy's fist slammed right into his nose, knocking him down to the ground.

"Keep your hands to yourself you cad!" she said, making sure she was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Gilmore sniffled and put a hand to his bleeding nose. He noticed the people staring at him and whispering judgmentally and looked a bit embarrassed. He gathered himself together and slithered off.

Steve snorted and clapped his hand over his mouth. He counted himself lucky that he found a strong woman like her. Frankly, it was a bit of a turn on for him, strong brunettes with a sense of justice. There was a bit of a pattern there.

Oh, Peggy was saying something to him.

"What?" he cupped a hand to his ear.

"I said," she made sure he was looking at her. "That we should leave now. I'm rather tired."

"Oh, yeah sure," he stood up and checked his pockets to ensure his wallet and keys were still there. Peggy looped her arm in his and led him out.

"Peggy?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's kind of sudden and we don't know each other well, but… do you want to stay with me? At my place I mean. We can even have separate rooms if you want to. I don't know… it's probably stupid."

She shut him up with a soft and sweet kiss. "I'd be delighted."

With a brilliant smile, he embraced her and kissed her.

The future was looking pretty bright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. It's probably a bit rushed, but I'm happy with the story. If anybody asks, I'd be happy to do one shots about their life together. I promise it those won't hurt as bad as The Agent and the Artist.


End file.
